


In Plain Sight

by HanShootsFirst



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Awkward, Bad Flirting, Cute, F/M, Hiding, LGBT, Love, M/M, Romance, Runaway, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-03-09 10:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanShootsFirst/pseuds/HanShootsFirst
Summary: Trying to forget the painful memories of his newly deceased mother, Leo Moore thinks moving to the middle of nowhere outside of Detroit with his aunt and her family will be a good thing. Then he meets Ave Fernandez. She seems to be the typical bad-girl, and suddenly her boyfriend isn't the only one who may-or-may-not like her. But when she starts to break down before completely disappearing and trying to stay off the grid, she chooses Leo as her only companion. Suddenly, Leo is bulled down a rabbit hole of secrets, lies, his missing father, and, perhaps, the answer to his mother's mysterious death.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lauren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauren/gifts).



It couldn't have been just luck that brought me to that thrift shop.

Out of all the thrift shops in the world, somehow I ended up at that one at that time of that day. What are the chances of that happening? Especially to me. According to my Mum, I have the same amount of luck as a welcome mat. I don't exactly know what that's suppose to mean, but it makes more sense when you think about it.

Mum had a way of seeing things that nobody else sees. And not those cliché storybook "she can see monsters" and crap like that. It's more quirky things that most people don't even think about, like the amount of luck a welcome mat has. As if the welcome mat is a real living breathing thing and can actually have luck. But I suppose if welcome mats were living, they probably wouldn't have the best luck.

And suddenly Mum doesn't seem so weird anymore.

If anyone should have been thinking about luck, it's Mum. But more like her own luck, rather than common household objects. The reason I say so is because a series of dreadful occurrences that one would call bad luck resulted in her death the month before, and me being shipped off to my aunt's house.

My aunt, Ruthanna Moore, or just Aunt Ruth is a strict Evangelical, with five kids and lives almost like an Amish, calling normal stuff like cellphones and the internet work of the devil. She also calls other religions the biggest sin you could ever have, so it doesn't help that when my mother married my now nonexistent father, she converted to his religion, Judaism, making me Jewish as well. When they divorced and dad ran off with a marijuana addict half his age, she, unlike most people, thought that Judaism was the right religion for her and me, and didn't convert back. It's not like I believe in the religion - we never went to a single Temple thingy so I never really had the opportunity to learn. Though I never actually believe that stuff, the fact that she stuck with that religion despite the rest of our family's disapproval is one of the main reasons I love her - besides that fact that she is my mother, of course. She sticks to what she believes in and doesn't let what other people say bring her down. I know it sounds ridiculous and cliché, like a description for a Mary-Sue character in a Harry Potter fanfiction, but in mothers case, it was more than true.

Though Aunt Ruth and my mother are twin sisters, they are complete opposites. Where Mum tended to accept and embrace people's differences, and raised me to be the same, Aunt Ruth is so psycho-religious it can get crazy at times. For example: almost immediately after I set my bags down on my new bedroom floor (aka the attic) and took off my shoes, Aunt Ruth barged in and asked me if I wanted to convert. Okay, that's a slight exaggeration. She calmly walked in, talked to me a bit about how sorry she was about what happened and how she would try to make me feel right at home here. Then she asked if I would be comfortable with attending church with her that Sunday. I told her no, that I was happy with my current religion and Christianity wasn't an option. Now I have a feeling she hates me, even though she claimed she would be perfectly fine with me staying with Judaism. Or, well, she has a strong dislike for me now. Hating is sinning in her mind, which I honestly don't disagree with.

Then Aunt Ruth asked me if I wanted to go to the Thrift Shop (cue the Macklemore!) to get some new clothes. I had left almost everything at my old house, for obvious reasons. So I agreed, not in the mood to wear the same underwear for a week.

Again, as Aunt Ruth and her abundant family is basically Amish, and drives a car that looks and acts like it had just made it out of the Holocaust, it took ages just to get out of the freaking middle of nowhere. I missed my old home. We lived in the middle of Flint, Michigan. Sure, it was the city with the most crimes in the entire United States, about, and maybe if we had lived somewhere chill, Mum wouldn't have been killed, but it was still home. Now we live in literally nowhere, about fifteen miles away from any sign of civilization.

That's a slight exaggeration. We have a few neighbors. Some twenty year old dude that Aunt Ruth said I should stay away from as best as possible - he smokes pot and does "unholy" stuff like that. Then there's an old couple that we help around the house every Sunday after Aunt Ruth and Co. get back from church. I believe there's some couple in their mid-forties as well, that we never see. But that's really it. Like I said, we live about ten to fifteen miles from a real town, which happens to be Detroit. Who knew that somewhere so close to flipping Detroit could be so empty?

~

"Does this look too big?" I turned to my older cousin Luke, who had accompanied Aunt Ruth and I on our voyage out of Nowhere, USA. The other gazillion or so cousins stayed home, with their father to watch over them.

Their father's name is John, who is another Evangelical (of course), but is way more chill about other religions. I guess that's why him and Aunt Ruth don't get along very well. For years now, they have hated each other's guts, but being so strict in their religion, they can't divorce.

Most of the time they are chill around each other, but at times it can get way too tense to hardly be able to bear.

"Nah." He shrugged, not paying any attention, but rather looking at a video game I know his mother would never let him purchase.

"Good." I smiled, holding the shirt against my chest. It was a Three Days Grace T-shirt, which also happened to be my all time favorite band, ever since I was a kid and browsing Spotify with my mother. Their name can be deceiving, which I can use to my advantage for once. Honestly, it sounds like a religious name, but in reality their music is anything but Christian. Though I highly doubt Aunt Ruth has internet to look it up, so I was in the clear with that.

Biting my lip to conceal a small smirk from forming on my face, I continue to wander around the isles of the store, occasionally stopping to look at a shirt or some pants or something.

Aunt Ruth is looking at some necklaces in the jewelry section, and is paying no attention to me. Or to anyone, for that matter.

"Hey, Three Days Grace boy! Mind if I borrow that?" a female voice hissed into my ear from behind me, tugging on my sweatshirt.

"Huh?" I turned around.

"I said," the girl hissed, her dark brown eyes darting around urgently. "Can I borrow that sweatshirt?"

"Um..."

"Crap!"

Before I could finish my reply, she snagged the black sweatshirt off of my waist and put it on herself, pulling the hood over her head, concealing most of her face. To top it off, she reached over and grabbed a pair of sunglasses from a display, shoving them onto her face in such a hurry that they looked sideways.

"Excuse me?" I stared at her in utter confusion.

She, without looking up from the ground, placed one, long tan finger on my lips, shutting me up, and whispered through her clenched teeth, "If anyone asks, I'm your girlfriend. My name is Elizabeth Queen, and I've known you for years."

"What are you-" I began, but stopped as my eyes rested on two police officers, who were talking to the lady at the register. I turned to the girl, who had a worried expression etched on her face, then back at the police officers, one of which appeared to be a chief. He was an old wrinkly man, holding a cane in one hand and a gun in the other. He couldn't be a day younger than seventy, and I began to wonder how and why he was still working as a chief, but I remembered what was going on and redirected my attention to the current situation.

OH! My brain screamed. My first instinct was to grab her arm and drag her to them, but I've learned from past experiences never to trust my first instinct, so instead I just started talking to her about the weather for a few minutes, not removing my eyes from the cops until they left, which took at least ten minutes.

When they finally left, I turned to the girl, who had now crouched down to the ground and was pretending to pick up some lipstick she had "dropped" out of her purse. I knew it wasn't her lipstick or her purse because there were still tags on both of them, along with the sunglasses she was wearing.

"So what are you, a criminal?"

She stood up, brushing her short denim skirt with her hands as if being near to the floor had caused it to become infested with bugs and germs. "No, of course not. I just..." she leaned in until her lips were only inches from me ear. "Have a history of...borrowing stuff without permission."

"Of course." I rolled my eyes, as she pulled off the glasses, placing them back on the display case, as if they had never left.

"Thanks, by the way." The girl smiled at me, scratching the back of her head. "If there's one thing I really don't need, it's another trip to the station on my record."

"They can't arrest you if you didn't steal anything...did you?" I eye her with suspicion.

Her face went a bright red, as she reached into her skirt pocket. "Shhh." she placed a finger to her lips as she dug around her pocket until she pulled out her hand, revealing a small golden chained necklace. "Don't tell."

"Course not. Why would I?" I shook my head, pursing my lips to hide a smirk. Normally, I was against stuff like that, but this girl seemed too...sweet to turn into the police, however crazy that sounds. A girl hiding from the police and shoplifting potentially valuable jewelry is sweet. But she was.

"Sorry." she apologized, her tone sarcastic as she rolls her dark brown eyes. "I guess I just assumed you're part of the decent and law-abiding side of society."

"Nah." Lie. "They're lame." Lie.

"You can say that again." She rolled her eyes, before looking down at her (presumably formally stolen) watch. "Jesus! Well, I gotta run. Catch you later...what's your name?"

"Leo." I stick out a hand for her to shake. My first instinct. Again, why I shouldn't trust my first instinct. How lame is freaking shaking someone's hand?!

"Ave." The girl replied, now distracted with a notepad, which she had taken out of her small purse and was scribbling down something in. "Not Ava, or that weird fancy name awe-vae like that Ave Maria song or whatever, just Ave."

I slowly placed my rejected hand to the side, hoping the humiliation will just go forgotten. "Nice meeting you Ave." I was tempted to say Ava, just to annoy her, but I quickly decided against it.

"Here." The girl - Ave - reached over, holding a small piece of paper, and placing it in my hand. "Call me." And inside the paper was her phone number, scratched down in small, messy printing.

Looking up and opening my mouth to reply, I stopped when I realized she had already left.

 

/wow well this is IPS...enjoy??? What do yall think? Ahaha sorry if there are any mistakes!


	2. Chapter 2

According to some lady called herself a therapist, when my Mom died, a piece of me died with her. Apparently I was supposed to find a way to let go, and get that piece of me back. As if that was actually possible. The only way I could do that would be to build a time machine and travel back to that night.  
That night I was in my room, binge-watching the first season of Pretty Little Liars on my Mom’s iPad, which she sometimes let me borrow when I kept my grades up and finished my homework. Mom always told me to be myself and she would always accept me for me and to avoid gender stereotypes, but I still couldn’t help but be uncomfortable with watching a girl show with anyone in the house, so I waited for ages until I was home alone to do so.  
Mom was working a late night shift that night, so I had the place to myself. That’s why I like not having a dad or siblings. I get the entire house all to myself for hours on end, with no one to tell me what to do. Well, of course I have a dad. It’s more of a concept of whether he’s ever actually around, taking me to baseballs games and helping me with my homework. He lived in some weird town at the other side of Michigan, so he always used the “it’s such a long drive” excuse to get out of seeing me. He also had a girlfriend named Honey, according to an email he once sent me that included a picture of her. I doubt that was her real name, but that’s the only thing dad called her. Honey was a twenty four year old high school dropout who worked at a club nine hours a week and never really did anything else. Her hair was dyed a bright pink, her eyes an electric blue and probably weighed about 90 pounds, including the ton of makeup she plastered on her face every morning. My father doesn't work at all, so her job, minus her hair dye bills, is what they live on, which is why I lived with Aunt Ruth after that night. Child Protection Services even said so themselves; that I would be better off living in the custody of a member of ISIS than that family.  
On the show I was watching, one of the main characters (Aria) was at her boyfriend/teacher’s (Ezra) apartment, waiting for him to come home. Nothing interesting. It was getting late, around eleven, and I had some volunteer work at the library the next day (I was raised by Mom, don’t judge), so I finished the episode before turning the iPad off, rolling over on my bed and closing my eyes. I had almost fallen asleep when the doorbell rang.  
I took a deep breath, rubbing my eyes, before standing up and stumbling my way to the front door, answering it in some short pyjama shorts and large bunny slippers that I received for my eleventh birthday and miraculously still fit. “  
Hello?” I yawned as I pulled open the door.  
Then suddenly I wasn’t tired.  
“Hello sir. Are you Leo Pérez?” The police officer asked, his face clear of any emotion.  
My heart began to beat at a rate I had no idea was even possible as my face goes a bright red. That’s always what happens when I’m nervous or scared. Instead of screaming or running or fighting, my face goes a bright red and I freeze. What did I do?! Was he going to murder me?! Oh my God, Leo! He’s a cop! He can’t kill you! My brain argued with itself. Just play it cool. “Yeah, is everything okay?”  
“No, I’m afraid not.”  
Damn.  
“ Your mother has been involved in an accident.”  
Double damn.

It wasn’t an accident. Murder isn’t an accident. Just because “there’s no proof of struggle”, according to the cops, doesn’t mean it’s an accident. It makes it an unsolved murder. There was a freaking bullet in her skull and was hidden in a stall in the women's bathroom! And no, she did not commit suicide. I know my Mom, and she was the least depressed person you could ever meet. Sure, some people hide their depression and stuff from their kids, but Mom wouldn’t. She just wasn’t like that.  
Mom worked at a hospital for both the sick and crazy (or as Mom liked to call, mentally challenged) called Kingsley Specialist Neurology Centre, or just Kingsley's, so I suppose I should have seen this coming. It was large, including a psycho ward, health area and even a Planned Parenthood, so there are many conspiracy theories of what happened, but really no one knows for sure who killed her. It could have been a worker, a patient, or one of the psycho people there. So now there’s a huge case on it, even though the cops say it probably was a suicide and that it was very unlikely that they would ever actually find a murder. I think the fact that they have a case on her murder/suicide shows that the cops don’t even believe their own conspiracy theory. Maybe they made it up to use as an alibi or a coverup or something to ignore the fact that one of them really did it. Apparently there was nothing on the security cameras either (which is another factor in their theory that it was suicide) so maybe the cop who killed her removed the tape and replaced it with something else. Not that it matters.  
I know I should care about finding my mother’s murderer, but honestly I don’t see how it will help anyone. My mother will still be dead, I’ll still be at Aunt Ruth’s, and the murder being solved will probably give me even more publication than I already have, which would be saying something.  
Honestly, I just wanted the entire thing to just be over. All the news articles and police calls naming new suspects and “milestones” in the case were getting way too painful. Like a constant reminder of what happened. Like the world was trying to torture me.  
~  
The first day of school was always the worst. But when you’re a Junior in a new town in a new high school after your mother’s murder, it manages to be even more terrible than normal. It’s also not the real first day of school. It’s already almost October. It’s just the first day of school for me, making it probably the worst torture a student could ever go though.  
I was given a map of the school by the counselor, whose name they never bothered to tell me because they were in such a rush to leave and give some mentally challenged kid some of his daily therapy. Apparently the new kids are the least of their worries here, because the map was a step up from illegible, the school is massive and I had no guide to help me around this place.  
Squinting at the map, I managed to find out what room my first class (US History) was, and squeezed my way through the crowded halls to it. I walked in, expecting to find some sort of torture device (I wouldn’t be surprised, noting this school’s tolerance) but it ended up being semi-normal. Normal looking students sitting at normal looking desks talking about normal stuff while waiting for the (hopefully) normal teacher to show up.  
It appeared to be a seat-yourself room, so I sat down in the way back, hoping and praying to not be the centre of attention. With luck, I thought, no one will recognise me from the news.  
It was highly unlikely of that happening. Thanks to the glory of the internet, I found out that Flint is one of the most crime-filled cities in the entire country, so they probably won’t put one very predictable murder case from a different town in the newspaper or whatever kids are reading these days.  
Logic at it’s finest.  
After waiting for a few minutes, the teacher barged in. His name was mr. Peterson, or according to what he began to write on the whiteboard it was. Crossing my fingers, I was silently praying that he wouldn’t try and introduce me to the class as “The New Kid”. Being labeled as The New Kid on the first day of school was not the best idea for my rep. Not that I care about what people think of me. Well, actually, I sort of do. Who doesn’t? It’s more like it doesn’t matter to me as much as it does to some people. Like, I’ve never been interested in, say, being crowned Prom King or dating the head cheerleader.  
I guessed I was in luck, because Mr. Peterson basically ignored me, but rather started talking about what sounded like some new rule about when you can use the restroom, so I zoned out. Rules are stupid. No one ever follows them anyways, so why make them? When they are broken, it just makes people feel less secure. Like someone would come and kill them too, after an untimely murder.  
“Oh my God, I am so sorry! My car broke down.” A familiar female voice exclaimed rather obnoxiously from the classroom door. I, along with the rest of the class, turned and stared. Oh shit.  
Mr. Peterson sighed heavily. “I’ll let you off this one time, Miss Fernandez.”  
Ave batted her long, presumably false eyelashes innocently, though she clearly couldn’t wipe the mischievous smirk off of her face. “Thank you.”  
“Oh!” Mr. Peterson said, his eyes now widening. He bit his lip, looking around the room warily. “Um, why don’t you go sit by Mr. Pérez.” Crap, that’s me!  
“It’s Moore.” I corrected before I could stop myself.  
After my Mom’s death, and I moved in with Aunt Ruth and Uncle John, I decided to keep my last name as Moore. Moms last name. Pérez was my father’s last name, and now that I was no long living with my father, as he refused to take me in (not that the CPS would let me, anyways) I thought it unfit to keep it. Plus, I liked the letter O. Leo Orion Moore sounded really cool. Or, at least better than Leo Orion Pérez.  
“My apologies, Mr. Moore.”  
And he really did look sorry.  
Ave smiled, as she hopped over to me and sat down. “Fancy seeing you again, Mr. Moore.” she laughed as Mr. Peterson resumed back to talking about stuff no one really cared about.  
“And you, Miss. Fernandez.” I replied under my breath, using a fancy yet stereotypical British accent. Maybe I was flirting, maybe I wasn’t. That didn’t matter.  
She laughed again, and tossed her black hair to the side. Only then did I notice that she was wearing the same golden chain necklace that I had witnessed her shoplifting the other day. It was around her neck, the gold easily visible against her dark skin.  
“Nice necklace.”  
“Thanks.” She winked at me, causing my face to burn a deep red. “You’re blushing.” Ave snorted.  
“No I’m not.” I lied, going even deeper shade. “Ava.”  
She glared at me through her pound of eye-related makeup. “Yes you are, Mr. Pérez.”  
I rolled my eyes, attempting to push that comment to the side. “Shut up.”  
“So what are you, new?” Ave asked, changing the subject as she pulled her long hair up into a high ponytail. I watched as she lifted her sleeveless arms up, took a binder off of her wrist and pull her hair up.  
“Yeah…” I replied, my voice trailing off as I stared at her. “I just moved here from Flint.”  
She scrunched her nose. “Aren’t there like, a million crimes a day there?”  
I nodded.  
“Sucks. I can see why you moved.”  
I nodded again.  
“You haven’t called me.” Ave noted randomly after a few minutes of silence. Mr. Peterson clearly overheard, and shushed us, but other than that didn’t call us out.  
“What?”  
“I said, you haven’t called me.” When seeing that repeating it didn’t clear up my confusion, she sighed heavily.  
“Back at Salvation Army, when we met. I gave you my number. You haven’t used it.”  
“I don’t have a phone.”  
“Sucks.” She said again. “You should borrow your mom or dads or whatever.”  
“My mom works a lot of shifts.” I said almost automatically, going quieter. What are you doing Leo? Lying to Ave?! My brain screamed at me, but unlike most of the times when my brain screams at me for being an idiot, I didn’t feel guilty. In fact, I didn’t care at all. 

After an hour of sitting and talking with Ave Fernandez instead of paying attention to Mr. Peterson, the bell finally rang. I couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing. Ave was certainly...interesting, but I can’t seem to figure out whether it’s the good or bad type. I mean, she steals and talks during class, but I talk during class too and I find her passion for theft pretty impressive. Or, so I tell myself.  
I went to my next few Ave-less classes, which were notably less interesting. I found myself zoning out time after time, hardly capable of doing anything. Who knew Junior year would be so boring.  
As the day dragged on, kicking its heels into the cold, hard dirt, lunch finally came. So far that day, I had made approximately zero friends, so unlike the majority of the other students there, I was dreading it. I’m going to look so lame. My brain told me as I walked down the hall. Sitting all alone, on my first day here, with no friends. That’s a great way to start the year!  
I was so busy listening to my brain rattle off pessimistic thoughts that I didn’t realize I was in the lunchroom until some kid with a football sweatshirt ran into me. “Watch it!” He said, laughing as he dashed past me, catching up with his other jock-y friends.  
“What a loser.” I could hear one of them say as they walked in front of everyone in the line, who all seemed to notice and looked very irritated but didn’t say anything.  
“Screw you!” I wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead I just sighed, and rolled my eyes. It didn’t matter anyways. It was just the way people were.  
Clutching my small, Elementary School-looking Spiderman lunchbox, I waddled over to an empty table, which also happens to be the farthest away from where the Jock/Cheerleader’s are placed, talking and laughing and flirting and tripping members of the AV club over. I know they’re from the AV club because they’re all wearing the same “Camp Audio Visual” T-Shirt. Apparently that club is very popular among us outcasts, because I’d seen about fifteen normal-looking people wearing them so far that day.  
Maybe I should join the AV club. My brain suggested, acting unusually positive. It’s not like it will ruin your rep anyways. It’s already hit rock bottom. Why not try it out?  
I shook my head, even though I was having the conversation in my mind and I most definitely looked like an idiot. Since when do you like AV?  
“Hey Leo. You look lonely. Imma sit with you.”  
I looked up, to be staring right at Ave and her paparazzi lined up behind her. Before I can even open my mouth to reply, she sits down anyways, and her friends/servants sit down next to her. There have to be at least five of them, and as they sat down people from other tables looked over at them, envy shining on their faces.  
I never really thought of Ave as a popular person, but now that I think about it, her being popular makes a lot of sense. I mean, she wears clothes that someone who enjoyed discriminating woman based on their clothing choice would call slutty, and she’s what a perverted twenty year old high school dropout would call sexy. And for the first time in forever, the sexist and the dropout actually know what they’re talking about. With a white sleeveless top that only covers her chest and her shorter-than-short denim skirt, you can tell she gets on well with other males. And if I were what slutty cheerleaders would call “hot”, I would be one of those males she “gets on well” with in a heartbeat, if given the opportunity.  
“Who's this kid, Ave?” The boy sitting to the right of her asks, flinging his arm around her. It was the jock who had ran into me earlier.  
Before she could respond, he grabbed the back of her head and pressed her face onto his. So this is Ave’s boyfriend. I realized as they continued to make out. Of course the popular football player would get Ave. Half of me wanted to burst out laughing, where the other half was resisting the heavy urge to stand up and punch Jock-Dude in the face.  
She smiled, placing one of her long, tan fingers on the tip of his chin and pushing him away. “Ollie, this is Leo, an old friend of mine.” An old friend??  
When the Jock kid - Ollie - looked away (at the cheerleader’s table), Ave winked at me, sending butterflies through my entire body. I wasn’t exactly sure why, because I clearly didn’t like her. Or, at least not romantically. Talk about out of my league. Plus, I’ve known her for literally a day. Well, besides our first encounter at that thrift shop, of course. But that doesn’t count.  
“I don’t recognise him.” Ollie The Jock said suspiciously, eyeing me.  
“Oh, he went to my school back in Mexico.” Mexico?  
“He doesn’t look Mexican.”  
“The correct term would be Hispanic, mind you, Oliver.” Ave crossed her arms, looking offended, before glancing over at me, clearly struggling for something else to say.  
“I was a Military Brat.” I jumped in quickly, before realizing that most Military Brats probably wouldn’t refer to themselves as a Military Brat. Well, it’s too late to back out now. My brain said. “My father was stationed in Mexico for a few years. He was just discarded so we moved here.”  
That wasn’t fully false. My father was hispanic (well, ½ Cuban), and did spend a good amount of time in the military. But I hadn’t seen him in person for about 10 years.  
Nice one. Ave mouthed to me as Ollie rolled his eyes, looking annoyed at my presence. “Military brat, eh? Lame.”  
I rolled my eyes. Even if it were true, I wouldn’t have cared. 

“We need to hang out later Leo. Like, actually.” Ave flipped her hair as we exited the cafeteria, Ollie The Jock gripping her hand, but besides that was completely ignored. He stared intensely at me, not moving his gaze for even a second when Ave spoke.  
“Oh, yeah! Yeah, definitely!” I replied quickly once I processed to my brain that she was actually talking to me. I’ve never been friends with a popular person before, and it felt weird. Because people were looking at her, they were looking at me and whispering behind their hands and giggling. Even before all the whispering girls, I could tell she was really popular, and it didn’t help that her boyfriend was Quarterback of the football team (according to one of her friends named Katherine who was very intrigued by my random appearance at the apparently “cool people” table).  
“Six tonight. Library.” She said, more like a statement than a question. When I thought about it, she never really asked questions.  
“Ahem.” Ollie The Jock cleared his throat. “Ave, do you think I can speak with your, um, friend in private.”  
“You better ask Leo.”  
He sighed heavily, scrunching his nose, clearly disgusted by the mere idea of having to talk to me. “Dude, can I talk to you? In private, preferably?”  
I shrugged, not bothering to correct him at the dude part. Maybe that was the “cool” thing here or something. “Go ahead.”  
He looked at Ave one more time, who was standing there, picking at her polished nail, before grabbing my upper arm and pulling me to a wall. His burning red face was only inches from mine, and he was breathing heavily. “Leave my girlfriend alone.” he hissed under his breath.  
“Excuse me?” I raised my eyebrows. For some reason I was expecting that he would make fun of my lunchbox or tell me I had a piece of broccoli stuck in between my teeth, even though I haven’t eaten any all day.  
“You heard me. She’s taken.”  
“I’m not into her like that-”  
“Don’t lie to me, I have eyes! And rest assured that if you so much as touch her I will rip you limb from limb.” he growled. Yes, he literally growled. I didn’t think I had ever seen someone so mad before - besides my father when he walked out on us ten years ago. But he doesn’t count.  
“Okay, I get it!” I placed my hands up in mock surrender and giving in. If he wanted to think I liked Ave (even though I’d only known her for half a day so that would be really weird) freaking let him. “I’ll back off.”  
He lowers his arms, still glaring at me through his dark brown eyes. “You better.”  
~  
“Mexico, huh?” I leaned back into the chair, my unread book pressed up against my chest. “Where’d you get that from?”  
“I was born in Mexico.” Ave tossed her hair behind her as she flipped through a Teen Vogue magazine, not looking up at me as she spoke.  
“Really?!” I said a little too loudly, as the librarian poked her head out of the shelves and shushed me moments later.  
“Would I say it if it wasn’t true?”  
I didn’t reply.  
“You have one interesting boyfriend.” I said after a few minutes of an insanely awkward silence, before realizing how horribly jealous and rude that sounded and added, “I mean, he’s nice, is all.”  
Ave snorted loudly, earning another “shhh!” from the librarian. “You really think so?”  
“Do you not?”  
“No.” She laughed, as if the idea of viewing your boyfriend as nice was the most absurd thing she had ever heard of. “Of course not!”  
“Then why are you dating him…?”  
“It’s a long story.” she shook her head, looking down at the floor. “I mean, he can actually be really amazing when you get to know him. He’s been going to my church since I moved here, so I’ve had time to know him. Plus, he and I have some...history, you could say. Besides the church stuff, of course.”  
“History?”  
“Yeah. History. That isn’t your business.” Ave stiffened, staring straight at her magazine but her eyes not moving at all.  
“Okay. Chill!” I raised my hands in surrender. For I second I even thought it was real, if I didn’t surrender she could whip out a gun and shoot me. Maybe that’s what happened to Mom.  
“Plus, he’s the Quarterback, and he’s cute and funny and smart and I guess I just love him...” her voice trailed off as she stated apparent qualities of Ollie-The-Jock. I should become Quarterback. My brain suggested. I could become popular and cool just like Ollie-The-Jock. Maybe I could be Leo-The-Jock. I shook my head, even though this conversation was entirely in my mind and anyone who could not read my thoughts would most likely thing I was having a spasm or something.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few months flew by in a flurry of homework (who knew Junior year would be so hard?!) and before I could say "school", it was winter. The only person who didn't seem to mind the insanely cold winter weather was Ave, though I doubted she went outside very often.

Ave, Ollie-The-Jock and I hung out a lot, along with a few other of their friends that I can't bother to remember the names of. It's not like they ever really talk to me. Same with Ollie. At first, I could tell Ollie had a strong dislike for me, which I oddly didn't mind, but as the time spent between us grew, he seemed to become more chill with me. I suppose he realized that hating on me won't make Ave change her mind and kick me out of their clan.

What draws Ave to me is what I'm most confused about. But I try not to question it, or my karma. Maybe, just maybe, life was working in my favour for once.

~

"Leo!" Ave called as I exited math, stumbling to catch up with me in the hall.

"Hey Ave." I snorted as I looked up at her mountain of books. "Need help with that?" 

"No, I'm good, thanks. Hey, have you seen Ollie today?' 

"Um, no, I haven't, sorry." 

"Dammit!" She said loudly, dropping one of her books and earning the attention of almost everyone around us. 

I reached down, and picked up her book as the crowd around us dispersed. Flipping it over as I stood up, I saw the title. "A Series Of Unfortunate Events; The Bad Beginning." I read aloud. "What's this about?" 

"Stuff." She snapped as she swiped it from my hand. I then noticed that she had over ten other books, all in that same series. "I just need to read about stuff that will make me feel better about my own life." 

"Are you okay Ave?" I eyed her up and down. "You seem a bit..." 

"Tense?" She offered between clenched teeth. 

"Yeah." 

"No, I'm not, thanks for asking." She hissed as she sped down the hall, eventually reaching her locker, where she stopped and leaned up against it, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. "This is not good." 

"Um..?"

"Leo, can you tell Mrs.Bender that I'm going to be late? Please?" She asked quietly, now not sounding as strained, but more upset. I think her voice cracked.

"Yeah. Yeah of course." I reached over and rubbed her shoulder. "What's going on Ave?" 

The bell rang, but neither of us moved an inch. The hallway was suddenly now empty, besides the occasional kid who was late to his class running by us. 

She shook her head, breathing heavy. "It's a long story." 

"I have time." 

"Mrs. Bender is going to be pissed." 

"I'm already late anyways." 

She took a quick, shuddery breath. "I-I told him some...er...news that I had been keeping from him last Friday. He hasn't replied to my calls or texts or anything and when I went to his house his little brother answered the door and said that Ollie didn't want to see me-" suddenly, all the books she was holding tumbled out of her arms and to the floor. 

Mumbling under her breath all the swear words even I still cringe at (especially when sixth graders say it, trying desperately to sound cool), she began to lean over and collect them, but stopped as I crouched down to the floor. 

"What was the news?" I asked as I grabbed a book out of her hand.

Ave shook her head again. "It's personal. Besides, it's not like it matters anymore. Unless, of course, he tells the entire school and my parents hear the rumors and find out..."

"We should ditch." I blurt out suddenly.

Ave stares at me in shock, wiping her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"We should ditch." I repeated. What are you doing Leo?! My goody-goody brain screams desperately, but I ignore it. Stupid conscious. 

"Leo, are you feeling okay?" She eyed me with suspicion as she took her hand out of my grip and placed it on my forehead, as if my temperature could determine my state of sanity.

"I feel fine Ave." I laughed, pulling her hand off of my head. "It could maybe help take your mind off of everything. Do you know a good place to hang?" 

"Well duh." She rolled her eyes, laughing slightly and seeming more like her usual self. Maybe that's what the idea of breaking rules did to her. "You do remember who you're talking to, right?" 

"Of course I do. So, where to?" 

"Back of the school, by the dump. It's a nice place, considering." 

"The dump is a nice place?!" I laughed, staring at her. So much for being a step away from a prep. "Please explain." 

Ave rolled her eyes. "I mean, it's better than the bathroom where twelfth grade boys smoke pot, right?"

℘

"You know," I began as I sat down on the wet, mushy grass from last night's large rainstorm. "For being the back of the dumpster, this place doesn't smell that bad."

"I told you so!" Ave playfully shoved my shoulder. "God, I should not have worn heels today." 

I laughed, looking down at her heels, which were sticking into the muddy ground. "Nice one."

"I know right?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm so smart!"

"Most definitely, my lady." I said, using a stereotypical fancy british dude accent.

"Hey Leo, can I ask you something?" Ave asked suddenly, her tone of voice now sounding very serious.

I looked at her. "Of course. Is everything okay?"

She nodded faintly. "Yeah. I just remembered something...and like...with Ollie...on the first day of school, what did he ask you? Like, when he wanted to talk to you alone?" 

"Oh, er," I pretended to have to think to remember, but in reality, his words stuck in my head, replaying themselves over and over almost every day. "He just thought I like, liked you or something. He told me to back off I think." 

"Sorry." Ave shook her head. "I just wanted to know if that had anything to do with why he left, but I guess not."

I just shrugged, staring down at the muddy ground, unsure of what to say. "It's fine."

"Do you?" She asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Do I what?"

"Do you like me?" 

I didn't know how to reply. That wasn't one of the things I thought about very much, liking people. I don't think I've ever had a real crush. They were all more like me telling myself that I liked them until I believed it. But Ave, I never really thought about whether or not I liked the way she dressed, or her flirtatious personality, or if I was jealous of Ollie-The-Jock for being able to kiss her and hold her hand. I never questioned why I'm even friends with her. She doesn't seem like the normal type of person I would hang out with. I mean, a popular, she steals, she's friends with people who clearly hate me. Not my usual crowd. 

"Er..." I began, still unsure what to say. I definitely didn't not like her, but I wasn't sure if I did either.

"Never mind." She interjected quickly, clearly realizing how awkward of a question that is.

"Sorry." I laughed, trying to break the tension. "It's just not one of the things I think about a lot, ya know?"

"Yeah, I totally get it." She said as she twirled her hair with her finger. "Hey, you're a Three Days Grace fan, right?" 

I perked up. "Yeah!" 

"Well, Ollie and I were going to their concert in May, but I have a feeling he doesn't want to go anymore...so you do want his ticket?" 

"Wait, really!?" I stared at her, my eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

"Yeah."

"Oh my God, thank you so much!" I nearly screamed, my face going bright red with excitement. "I'll pay you back as soon as possible." 

"You don't have to do that Leo. It'll be my treat." 

"No, really Ave, I insist." I began to dig around in my pocket, even though I knew very well that I had no money in there.

"No, I insist, Leo." she grabbed my hand and pulled it away from me. 

I stared at her, my eyes widening as what felt like electricity shot through my entire body. "Thanks, I guess." I smiled, not removing my hand from hers.

We sort of sit like that for a minute or two, on the muddy ground, pretending that it's totally not awkward.

"Hey, what's your address?" She asked me suddenly, breaking the silence that loomed over us.

"Uh...why?"

"Just in case I feel like sneaking out at one point. I can find you at your house and make you come with me." 

"You know," I glanced down at my watch, which appeared to actually be working for once. "If we're already ditching, we could just head to my place. Everyone else is at school or work."

And we did just that.

"I like your room Leo." Ave said as she sat down on my unmade bed. Figures, how the one time I don't make my bed, a girl comes over. 

"Really?" I looked around at the monstrosity. 

"Yeah, it's really cool."

"Thanks I guess." I smiled at her. 

My room was in the attic, so the walls were hardly even considered walls, as there were so many beams and crap and it was slanted, making it hard to hang up all my band posters. But I did find a way eventually, so my room is now stuffed with crap like Three Days Grace and All-American Rejects. Not the type of music people like Ave would usually listen to. Or so I thought. I mean, she did just give me Three Days Grace concert tickets. God she's amazing.

I've never felt self-conscious of my room and the stuff inside of it. Not even when Auth Ruth was coming up for the first time to collect laundry or when I still lived with mum and her old new boyfriend came over. 

But now, for some reason, with Ave here, I feel more self conscious then I think I ever have. Like, not just about my room, but ever. I mean, why wouldn't I? My freaking underwear is on the floor while there is a girl here.

"Oh my God, I love Skillet!" Ave shrieked suddenly as her gaze hit one of their posters. "Jesus, I had no idea you had such a good music taste Leo!"

"You like Skillet?" I asked, suddenly very excited, as if I were about to fanboy, or whatever the male version of fangirling is called. 

"Yeah." she rolled her eyes. "It's one of the few rock bands my folks will let me listen to." after examining my confused face, she continued. "My family's like, all psycho Christian. Any band that has a freaking drummer in it is considered 'unholy' or some shit.." 

"Nice." I laughed. "I'm Jewish. I wish there was some, like, Jewish rock or something. That would be cool." 

"That would. I've always wondered why there isn't, like, religious music for other religions that aren't, like, church songs or whatever."

"Probably because Christianity is the biggest religion in the world. There aren't enough, say, Buddhist rock musicians to make a Buddhist rock genre or whatever."

"Well aren't you smart?" Ave laughed again, leaning back into the bed again, her head squashing the pillow below it. "I like your bed. It's soft." 

"Thanks." I replied, unsure of what to say. 

We kinda just sat there for a bit, talking about stuff that we probably would never think about again. Not because we didn't want to, just because they didn't matter in the slightest. It was mostly just fanboying/fangirling over music. I had no idea that a popular person wouldcould like music like what we were obsessing over. I guessed I should stop with the unreasonable stereotypes. They are kind of stupid anyways. 

~

Another week flew by, without any signs of Ollie-The-Jock, until on a cloudy Wednesday afternoon, he walked in late to English, holding a large yellow piece of paper and glaring at everything he happened to look at, as if the air and the table and Mrs. Bender was a giant statue praising a political candidate he hated. 

"Sorry." he mumbled under his breath as he handed her the note. "I was sick." 

I don't think Mrs. Bender bought it, but she didn't say anything and Ollie-The-Jock took his seat, which (very likely uncoincidentally) was as far away from me as possible, and right next to Ave. A pang of jealousy seared through me when I saw her perk up as he sat down, and talk to him as if last weekend never happened. 

Maybe I was jealous of Ollie. Maybe I was jealous of Ave. Maybe I was jealous of both of them. It doesn't matter.

I tried not to watch them for the rest of the class period. I pretended that I could care less, almost to the point where I believed it myself. 

The key words in those two statements are 'tried' and 'almost'. 

Mrs. Bender continued to talk about Shakespeare and crap that no one cares about, until the phone rang. She picked it up, her red nails tapping on the table. "Hello, Renee Bender. Yes, of course. Is everything alright? Oh my. Yes, she'll be right down." she then hangs up the phone and turns to the class. "Fernandez, the office needs you for a second."

Ave raised an eyebrow as she slowly stood up from her desk. "Okay...?" she said as she exited the classroom. Ollie-The-Jock and I both watched her until the door closed behind her. Even then, I noticed that Ollie was still staring at it for a good five minutes.

*

Ave was gone for the rest of the day. And the next day. And the day after that. Then, on Monday, she half returned, meaning she came back but wasn't quite...herself, if you know what I mean.

There were large, dark circles under her eyes, which had been ridded of her usual ton of makeup. 

"Ave..." both Ollie-The-Jock and I walked up to her as she entered English, surprisingly early. Usually she's always late, or she ditches all together.

"H-hey guys." she forced a smile, but couldn't hold it for more than a second before it began to waver. 

"Are you okay?" We both say, again, in unison, staring at her with concern.

She shrugged. "I guess?"

Ollie-The-Jock and I exchanged glances. 

It's weird how people can have an entire silent conversation with each other, just by facial expressions and shrugs. That's exactly what happened between me me and Oliver Heiden at that moment of that day. 

It went something like this;

Me: Is she lying?

OTJ: Well duh!

Me: Sorry, I was being stupid.

OTJ: Again, duh!

Me: What's up with her?

OTJ: I have no idea.

Me: Should we pry?

OTJ: Idiot. Just leave it be. 

So we did just leave it be. We spent the rest of our day acting like Ave wasn't being completely abnormal. Because pretending is always the easier option, for everyone. The get-out-of-jail-free card in the monopoly that is your life.

At the time, it seemed wise. But looking back at this now, I realize that it was probably the worst decision I have made in my life.


	4. Chapter 4

All Ave seemed to be for the next month was a big, dark cloud of depression, raining down on everyone and ruining the schools occasionally chipper mood swings. Somehow, in some way, she managed to do even more illegal/rule breaking stuff that usual. She kept getting called down to the principal's office, most likely for that (though I have no idea how they caught her, the only reason I know about all of it is because she oddly views me as a friend and feels the need to tell me this stuff), and she missed a crap ton of school. Maybe she was suspended. Maybe she was spending time doing community service, or whatever people who committed not-so-serious crimes but bad enough to deserve a punishment. Who knew?

I asked Ollie-The-Jock about it once, and he just shrugged his shoulder and mumbled that he didn't know under his breath. He always avoided eye contact, which I had never noticed him doing before. So I took a hint and didn't ask again.

On the occasion that I did talk to him, however, Ave seemed to be a tough subject for him. If I so much as brought her up, his already stiff mood would become even more blunt in his irritation; hardly talking and shrugging his shoulders after every question, not even looking at me.

Now that I think about it, Ollie-The-Jock never looked at me for more than a few seconds, before turning away. Apparently the floor was more appealing. Not that I disagree, of course.

On this particular day, Ave had been gone for two weeks straight, making English very boring with no one to whisper with in the back of the room when the teacher wasn't watching. The only flaw about the times she was there is Ollie-The-Jock would shoot us consistent glares, reminding me that Ave is his girlfriend and not mine and he'll always be first. Or was. Not is. From what Ave's said, they broke up, and they're "Just Friends".

I wonder why I don't believe that.

It's not like I like Ave or anything, of course. Or, like as anything more than a good friend. I mean, Ave's Ave and I'm me. Even if I did like her, it's not like anything would ever happen. Talk about absurd.

Without Ave to sit by, I was stuck next to some cheerleader girl named Katherine (a good friend of Ave's, yet very annoying) who played with her abnormally long hair all class and chewed her gum super loud. It was a miracle that Mrs. Bender couldn't hear it from where they were. Maybe she did hear, and just favoured her above the rest of their students here. Favoritism seemed to be a common thing among this school.

I couldn't be happier when the bell rang, releasing us from prison (school) to the only thing saving grace (lunch).

As fast as my little feet could muster, I rushed down the packed halls to the lunchroom, not wanting to be there last and having to sit by those weird Catholic people who spend the entire lunch hour talking about the importance of celibacy. Let's just say that's not exactly my crowd.

As you can probably imagine, I was more than relieved when the seat next to Ollie-The-Jock was available, and he was not sitting by the other Jocks, who are usually less tolerant to my presence. He appeared to be with the AV club, which didn't make much sense, but I tried not to think about it. Once, I had tried to sit by him when he was sitting by Peter Lewis, who is the football teams catcher and probably one of the most popular people in the entire school, and he literally looked disgusted by me. Not that I care, of course. It's just annoying. Though I can tell he isn't exactly fond of me, I'm thankful that Ollie-The-Jock doesn't completely despise me, and if, in the position, will sorta talk to me. By sorta, I mean look at the ground and mumble. But then again, with the exception of Ave, he does that to practically everyone.

So, holding my very small lunchbox and looking across the scene almost identical to my first day of school, I plopped down next to him.

In Ave's absence, I've noticed a lot more about Ollie-The-Jock then I normally would've. Like how he has a few friends from football and basketball and whatever other sports he plays, but is very antisocial and prefers to be alone. Apparently his other kinda-friends don't really like him either, because when they're not talking about sports, they're not talking at all. I noticed how he hates whenever a teacher calls on him or someone asks to be his partner in a project. I know that because today in Biology I needed a partner, and I knew no one in the class but him, so I asked, and his face said it all. The usual; "God Leo stop talking to me you're so lame just like everyone at this stupid school! Leave me alone can't you see I'm busy breathing?!" But he agreed anyways, probably happy that he at least knew who I was and wasn't stuck with one of those wack Catholics or something.

The project is pretty simple, something a sixth grader could easily do, given the time. We just have to make some thingy to show mass and crap that I can't bother to pay attention to. I believe the project is actually for sixth graders - the best presentation gets to present at the middle school. Though I am about 101% positive I will fail at this. Biology isn't exactly my strong suit.

When I sat down, Ollie-The-Jock looked up at me, completely shocked that I'm sitting by him, even though I have been sitting in the exact same spot every day since the first day of school, even the past couple weeks when Ave's been gone.

Ollie-The-Jock and I have oddly gotten close in the past few weeks, to the point where I could almost call him a friend. About time. I rolled my eyes. We've known each other for months.

"Er...hey Leo." He eyed me, his expression shining with total disbelief that I was actually sitting near him. A good or bad disbelief, I was unsure of.

"Hey Ollie-th-" I stopped myself from saying Ollie-The-Jock just in time, having been distracted by the weird look he was giving me. He didn't seem to notice though, which was good. I don't want a jock on my bad side, seeing as I'm about the size of a twig and he could take me down in a single punch. "Are you busy tonight?"

"Er...I have some church thing, but it ends around seven...why?" Ollie-The-Jock spoke almost inaudibly, staring at his hands, his face glowing as bright of a red as Katherine Williams hair.

"Well I was thinking maybe you could come over and we could work on our project. But if you're busy it's fine."

"Oh, I can come over." he responded quickly, suddenly sounding less antisocial and more alert. "Or, you should come to my place." He gave me his address. "Come around 8."

"I like your room." I said as I walked in, looking around and trying not to cringe, as I realized just how obvious it was that I was lying.

"Really?" Ollie-The-Jock scrunched his nose, coming up from behind me and glaring at the walls, apparently not catching onto the fact that I was lying. Either that or he was a really convincing actor. "I don't."

I laughed slightly, taking in everything the unusual room had to offer. The entire thing was crosses and portraits of Jesus and co. I swear there are at least ten forms of crosses in here, and another ten pictures of people from the bible, half of which I can't even name. Seriously though, I'm not exaggerating. There's even a very old looking portrait of The Virgin Mary, hovering above his bed where he's probably screwed Ave, along with his previous girlfriends a dozen times.

It's funny how ironic life can be.

"Why not?"

"Reasons." he huffed, reminding me how cold Ollie-The-Jock could be, when not in the presence of his "not girlfriend" Ave. He took a deep breath, staring intensely at me with his dark green eyes.

I shift uncomfortably, looking at my rather worn out shoes that used to belong to Matt, but Luke had them first. Wait, no, I believe they were John's first. Then Luke's, then Matt's, then mine. Yeah, that's right. I think. Who knows, who cares? See how pathetic I am? Contemplating the timeline of a shoe. This is one of the main reasons I often question why Ave wants anything to do with me, or my shoe-obsessed mind.

I don't want to look up because if I did, Ollie-The-Jock and I would be making eye contact, and God knows how awkward that would be. More awkward than anyone finding out that many of my brain cells consist of shoe contemplating. Now that I think about it, it's kinda weird that I'd known him for months and we had not once made eye contact. Whatever. He's Ollie. What can you expect?

"Er...so for the project I was thinking maybe-"

"Right!" He jolted up suddenly, as if he were just in a dase and the mention of our Biology project had revived him to his normal, serious self. "The project! Sorry, just got a bit...lost."

"It's cool." I shrugged. "Anyways, I was thinking maybe we could do something like this..."

I grabbed a piece of paper from the large notebook I had brought over (I may or may not have stolen it from my cousin Mary's sock drawer) and began to sketch a quick design, not realizing how stupid I looked until I had finished.

Ollie-The-Jock shrugged indifferently. "Works for me."

"Great."

There was an awkward silence, which seem to be getting more and more consistent when around Ollie-The-Jock.

I cleared my throat. "So should we get started?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry! Er...I believe I have some paper in here..." he began to open random drawers from his small desk, squashed in the corner.. He grabbed a small, bright green folder, labeled Junior Biology in his small, swirly handwriting that anyone with the gender stereotypical mind of the day and age would easily mistake for belonging to a girl.

"Shit!"

As he pulled it out, another folder that was resting on top of it came down with it, spilling its contents all over the small, carpeted floor, that, despite being a popular seventeen year old male who has probably hosted dozens of parties, is spotless.

"Goddammit..." Ollie-The-Jock mumbled along with a few other choice words I would not be very keen to repeat as he crouched down and recollected them as fast as he could, which must have been very hard because there were a lot of them, scattered across the entire room and sliding under places like his bed and into his open closet. I'd say, total, there had to be at least a hounded.

I bent down as well, quickly grabbing a few. Now, this is going to seem creepy, but please, hear me out; I didn't intentionally turn the one I was holding over, but when I did, I couldn't stop.

They were photographs. Of like, literally everything you could imagine. They were all dated; Saint Peter's Catholic Church, whatever that was, had a January 2013 scribbled in the left corner, stating that the picture couldn't have been taken more than a few months ago. A bonfire, an elementary school class outside of a theatre dated October, 2007, someone that looked like she could be his mother. But one really stuck out to me.

It was a little girl - no older than twelve, with dark skin and black hair pulled into two braids, staring at the camera with a huge, toothy grin. She had a Gryffindor flag in one hand and a copy of The Deathly Hallows in the other. I recognised her immediately.

"Is this Ave?"

Ollie-The-Jock's face went a bright red, and I suddenly realized that this was the first time he had ever expressed any form of emotion in front of me. But before he could answer, I asked another question.

"Did you take all these?" I questioned, not removing my gaze from the photographs of basically every single thing in this stupid town. Though somehow, Ollie-The-Jock managed to make even the worst town ever look seemingly perfect. Maybe he was magic. Maybe he just had a good camera. Maybe I should have asked him at this exact moment. But I didn't.

"Er..."

"They're amazing." I replied in awe, searching through the large pile.

"Really?!" I could tell he was trying to sound like his normal, monotone self, but failed, having been clearly shocked by the complement. Maybe he was excited too. Maybe this was the first time anyone had ever complimented him about these. Maybe he never told anyone about it, because, according to recent expectations, photography was for lonely gay guys. Or at least not what captain of the football team would spend their free time doing.

Not that being gay was bad, of course, but at the day and age, gay marriage wasn't even legal in most countries, and this was a high school in Michigan we were talking about. No one in their right minds would want to be seen as that weird gay guy. I then began to wonder if he had ever shown anyone his unknown talent. What reason would he have not to? I asked myself. They are spectacular. Oh wait, he's a popular jock and doesn't want to be considered by the abnormally judgemental student body as Gay. Dangit.

But I wasn't lying about the pictures, though my weird over enthusiasm could easily have been seen as sarcasm, now that I think about it. They were truly amazing; the lighting and the angles and what the pictures all added up together somehow made all these simple stuff so completely and utterly perfect.

"Yeah." I smiled, looking up at him. "Do you think you could show me how to do these sometime, if that's not too much to ask?"

His eyes lit up as he smiled (yes, Ollie-The-Jock actually smiled) back at me, every piece of Ollie-The-Jock's pessimistic and serious personality disappearing entirely. "You really like them Leo?"

Definitely. I mean, I've tried photography before with my mum. Our dog ended up snatching the camera out of my hands and running down the street with it." I laughed at the memory that, until now, remained long forgotten. "So I guess I could use some help with it."

He snorted, slapping his head with his hand. "Well, if you really want to, er, I-I guess I could give you a few basic tips."

"Wait...you'd actually do that?" I gaped at him, shocked by his sudden change in personality.

"Well...I mean...I could...only if you want." His face when a bright red, as he looked down at my hand, which was holding a picture of Ave from about a year ago. Her hair had been quite long at the time, stretching almost to her waist. She was laughing, clearly unaware of the fact Ollie was taking a picture of her.

"You like her, don't you?"

"What?"

"You like her." Ollie repeated slowly, his voice hinted with hurt, though I can tell he's trying to conceal it as best as he can.

"Where'd you get that from?"

"Um," he, despite looking more than upset, began to laugh, sounding slightly insane. "I'm not blind! I see the way you look at her. God-"

I interrupted him mid sentence with "Dude, she's your ex girlfriend! I could never-"

"Leo, would you just shut up for once in your life?!" He cut me off, his face burning a bright red. He took a deep, shaky breath, clearly trying to suppress his anger, before continuing. "Listen to me, Moore. Ave and I have nothing going on anymore. We both made it very clear that we're over. Go for it. She'll all yours."

"What happened between you guys?" I demanded so forcefully I actually scared myself for a second. Hey, at least it got off the subject of me liking Ave, which I most certainly do not. Or at least not in the way Ollie-The-Jock is suggesting.

"None of your business, that's what!"

"Fine. I'll rephrase that: why do you not seem to care in the slightest if I were to want to date her or something? She claimed to be in love with you! Do you not feel the same?"

"What do you think?!"

"I don't know! If I did I wouldn't be asking!"

"God you are such an idiot sometimes!" He practically exploded, jumping up from the ground. "No, I didn't love her! Heck, I didn't even like her!"

I slowly stepped up from the ground as well, letting the photographs slip from my hands. "You didn't like her...at all?"

He took a shaky breath, this time less from anger and more from what looks like nerves. "I-I thought I did at first. But then I realized I didn't, but I didn't want to hurt her so I just stuck with her."

I raised my eyebrow, suddenly recalling the first day of school where he had very forcefully told me to back off. "Who do you like then?"

"Why do you care?" Ollie snapped, suddenly returning back to his antisocial Jock-ish self. "It's none of your goddamn business, that's who!"

"My God, what is your problem with me?!" I sighed, exasperated. This is why I usually didn't have male friends - one moment, you're obsessing over an unknown talent and offering it teach it to the other (usually I'm the one being taught, because I'm lame and have no skills), and the next we're fighting over a girl.

"What are you on about?" He stared at me with wide eyes, looking genuinely confused, and the anger disappearing entirely from his expression.

"I mean," I started, preparing myself for a long tangent. "You really seem to hate me, ever since the first day of school! I've made it more than clear that I don't like Ave, and I've gone out of my way on multiple occasions to talk to you, but all you ever do it grunt and stare at the floor! I guess I just don't exactly understand what I ever did to you to make you dislike me as much as you seem t-"

He cut me off for about the billionth time that day, but instead of shouting something equally as loud and long, he bent downwards slightly to meet me eye to eye, and kissed me.

Looking back at this now, I probably should have thought about it a lot more. What it was like. How it felt. Was it like, a normal one or one of those weird kisses in X-rated movies about teen vampires or something.

All I can remember from this certain moment in time at Oliver Heiden's home, are the thoughts that were flying through my head so fast that I'm surprised that they didn't magically fly out of my head and run around the room screaming. And yes, I am perfectly sane, thank you very much. Even though now I guess that really wouldn't have made much sense, nor would it have made the situation any less uncomfortable.

Wait, Ollie-The-Jock is gay?! My mind screamed at me, though that probably was not an appropriate time to do so. Oh my God, what about Ave?! What about me?! Why am I not pulling away? Leo, are you actually enjoying this? Goddammit, am I gay?!

That was not the first time I had ever questioned my sexuality, but it is the first time I have ever walked away from any of my other questioning times thinking, wow, what if I'm gay?

At first, I had no idea what to do. I just stood there like an idiot, my eyes wide open and frozen in shock. But I quickly began to kiss back, losing any sense of right and wrong.

"Y-you should go..." Ollie stuttered, pushing me away suddenly and avoiding my gaze. "My mom's gonna be off work any moment now..."

"Yeah...yeah, okay." I managed to spew out through my shocked state of mind as I quickly collected my stuff, and just as I was about to exit the room, I, without thinking, spoke to break the silence. "See you Monday."

Tap. Tap. Tap. I tapped the small, pink rubber eraser of my pencil against my empty notebook, as I strained to think of what to write. Tap. Tap. Tap.

God this was me. Typical Leo Moore. Saving his homework until, what time was it? Ten? Eleven? Midnight? I would look at the ancient clock with Roman Numerals that used to belong to my great grandmother and somehow ended up in the possession of Aunt Ruth, but it was at the other side of the room and I wasn't wearing my glasses and I didn't feel like getting up and finding them. That's the thing about having shitty vision; you can see some stuff no matter how far away it is, but the actual important stuff you can't. For example: I can see through the small window at the end of my room that it is currently pouring outside, but I can't see the freaking time.

Shut up! I told my brain. You need to focus.

Then I almost burst out laughing.

Because no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't focus. Thinking about my glasses and the rain and the clock wasn't me focusing, it was me trying to get what had just happened with Ollie out of my head. But clearly, that was going to be impossible. So after a few more minutes of trying to come up for ways the Revolutionary War could have been prevented, I set my homework to the side, letting out a loud, frustrated sigh, hitting my head against the hardwood wall.

Freaking Oliver. What was I supposed to do on Monday? Ignore him? Confront him about it? Pretend nothing happened? None of those options seemed right, but those were the only ones I could think of, because I am literally the most boring and uncreative person to ever walk the planet. Besides, maybe, whoever wrote My Immortal (the fanfiction, not the song). But even that was hilarious.

Ugh.

I give up.

Just as I was about to get up, turn off the lights and try to fall asleep (though I have insomnia and the mere idea of going to bed at whatever time it was seemed completely absurd, it was better than this), a very loud tap echoed through my room/attic, momentarily taking my mind off of all the Ollie stuff as I jolted up and began to frantically look around for the source of the noise.

It's late Leo. I told myself after a few minutes of my usual paranoia, . You're probably just imagining it. Yup, that's it. I'm just going insane.

That was the conclusion I had come up with as I grasped the string that hung from the ceiling and would turn off the singular light bulb that hung above my bed, but just as I did that another tap could be heard, this one a lot louder.

"What even..." I mumbled to myself, glancing around at my small, cramped room because, of course, if I didn't find what it was before I was totally sure to find it this time by doing the exact same thing. That was sarcasm, in case you couldn't tell.

Wow I am so going insane.

That wasn't actually very much of a shock to me. I was obviously going insane. Insanity might be contagious, and seeing as I've spent a few days with mum helping her out at Kingsley's so I easily could have picked up some of the insanity from the psycho ward (even though she technically worked in the Planned Parenthood area...). Maybe the tapping is just a fragment of my imagination. But don't insane people usually think that they are perfectly sane, so people who contemplate being insane are actually sane because they take the fact that they may be insane into consideration?

I really need a life.

Just as I thought that, there was another tap, followed by a crash and immediately I had spun around, to be staring at my small, circular bedroom window, which had been broken. Glass shards stretched across my room, which I paid no mind to as I grabbed my glasses, then dashed barefooted to my door, and down the stairs to see what the hell was going on, and who the hell broke my window.

When I swung open the front door, walking out to the yard where my window looked out at, I gasped, as if I was in a horror movie and the ghost or zombie or whatever just stepped in front of me, holding a knife and stabbing me repeatedly. Luckily, this is real life and not a horror story, so that is not in any way even close to what happened.

"Ave?!" Despite the rain, I could easily tell that it was her, even though her new look made her almost unrecognisable to almost everyone else. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I..." she stuttered, and only then did I realize she was crying. "Leo, something happened..."

"What?" I took a few steps towards her, but she backed up, to where I could only reach out and touch her shoulder with the tips of my shaking fingers. "What's going on?"

Ave took a long, shaky breath, closing her eyes and pushing my hand off of her. "Is there any chance I could borrow a couple hundred dollars and a car?"


	5. Chapter 5

When I was younger, about six or seven, mum had some life lesson she was obsessed with that she would always tell me. It was to appreciate what I had now, because I'd never know when it would leave. A more common way of phrasing that would be saying "you don't realize what you have until it's gone", but being Margaret Elizabeth Moore, she refused to use the normal way. That message was a big part of her life, starting when she was about eight and her little brother nearly died in an accident involving Elvis Presley and a seat belt malfunction, but I never really applied it to myself until almost a year ago when she "committed suicide" aka was murdered by God knows who.

Even then, I only thought to use it around people, and not common household objects, like a welcome mat or something. Something that my luck would be equivalent to, as mum used to say. But maybe if I had started to appreciate these little things, I would miss them even more if I had just disregarded them. That was more than possible. Wow, I sure do have my moments of genius (not to brag or anything, of course). Wait, why am I thinking about this again?

Oh yeah.

The only reason I bring this up is because that night, while driving a completely hysterical Ave to God knows where in the middle of the night during an enormous storm, I really wished that Uncle John's car had some form of a windshield wiper.

By the looks of the ancient car, it did have windshield wipers at one point, but some time in the past twenty to thirty years something happened causing them to be ripped off, leaving little stubs.

"Ave," I turned and looked at her as soon as we pulled into a gravel road in the middle of nowhere, with no cars that we could possibly run into. Yes, taking my eyes off of the road for even a second was probably really stupid and unsafe, considering how bad it was raining, but that didn't matter. "What on earth is going on?"

She sighed, closing her eyes and trying to calm down, but as soon as she opened her mouth she broke into even bigger sobs. "I-I..." she managed to say, which didn't help in the slightest, but at least I know she could sort of talk and she hadn't been possessed by the ghost of a baby or evil murderous little Asian immigrant girl from the 1940's seeking revenge on her murderer or something that could not speak the english language.

That was always a plus.

"Breathe." I told her, and she did just that, until she could regain her ability to speak.

"So the police came to my house..." Was the first thing she said, her voice shaky, as I gaped at her.

"W-why?"

"They think I did something...but I swear to God I didn't Leo!" She placed her head in her hands, now shaking uncontrollably. "Omigod omigod omigod..."

I took one hand off the steering wheel and rubbed her back. "It's gonna be okay Ave." I said calmly, trying to impersonate my mother. Whenever I was upset, whether it was about bullies or a death or anything, she would always say simply that it was going to be okay, in her abnormally calm voice, and no matter the situation, it always seemed to help.

Apparently, the calming gene was passed down to me, because as soon as I did that Ave's breath became more steady, and she stopped shaking as rapidly and all in all appeared to be more relaxed. And by more relaxed, I don't mean she full on took a chill pill or something, but at least she wasn't sobbing to the point where her eyeballs might have fallen out. I watch way too much sci fi.

"I know why they were there, they have been investigating me for months, so when I heard the door break down and saw the flashing lights outside my window, I grabbed all my money, a change of clothes and a pistol and made a run for it." she motioned at the small brown knapsack that rested at her feet, which until now I didn't notice was there.

" Why here though?" I questioned her, panic settling in me. Police?! She's involved with the police?! "Why me? What were they investigating you for?"

"Because...I don't know, you're the first person I thought of, you're my best friend Leo..." Ave shook her head, her expression turning grim suddenly as realization seemed to strike her. "Oh my God, what have I gotten you into?!"

"Calm down." I told her as she broke down again, trembling harder than she was before, and it was a probably a good thing she had stopped wearing makeup because if she had been she would have looked crazy, with mascara or whatever girls use around their eyes running down her face. Though maybe that look would have been more her - she has to have done something pretty damn messed up to get in trouble with the police. Even if she didn't, they still have to have a reason to suspect her.

"Turn around!" she demanded, now in hysterics. "Maybe if we get back quick enough no one will know you left. You can say I-I stole the car or something!"

"Ave, listen to me." I tore my eyes off of the road and looked at her, making direct contact into her chocolate brown eyes. "I don't care where on earth you're going or why or what you did or how much trouble this could get me in. I'm going with you, and there's no stopping me."

"Honestly, Leo, really, I-I.." She sputtered, unable to form a sentence, and a sudden, sad realization of how different Ave had become came over me.

Looking back at when we first met, in that Salvation Army when she borrowed my sweatshirt and basically used me to keep her from getting caught shoplifting, she seemed to be pretty damn confident. Especially compared to now.

"Hey," I noticed, while on the topic of when we first met. "You're necklace."

She reached down, grabbing the golden chain necklace that was strung loosely around her. "What about it?" Her eyebrows were raised, probably confused why I changed the subject so abruptly, especially from such a serious one. Maybe that was a bit insensitive on my part, but at the same time she seemed rather relieved that she didn't have to talk about whatever the hell had just happened.

"Isn't that the necklace you stole when we met?"

Her eyes seemed to light up as she remembered. A small smile formed on her face, and I had almost forgotten how beautiful she was when she smiled, it had been so long. Even with red puffy eyes, no makeup and clothes that appeared to have not been changed for a week, she beat every girl in the school. In all honesty, she looked better without the pound of usual makeup she had formerly used to plaster all over her face.

But there's still Ollie...I groaned, irritated at myself. The one pro in this whole Ave situation is that it took my mind off of that, if only for an hour. Now I was sitting in my half amish uncle's car with my best friend who I kindasortamaybelike contemplating a kiss between her closet gay ex boyfriend and me.

Oh shit did I actually just think that?

"Yeah, it is." She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I almost forgot about that."

"I could never." I stared at her, and without thinking about this I took my other hand off of the wheel, reached over and grabbed her hand. It was cold, shaky and tense but very quickly relaxed into my grip.

She laughed quietly, saying everything that words couldn't, as she leaned against the car window, watching the raindrops fall onto it. Though this was probably a bad idea, given that I was driving in a rainstorm, I looked over and watched it with her. It was hypnotic, in its own weird way, and for a few minutes I forgot where I was and what I was doing, until Ave broke the silence.

"Thank you Leo."

"Anytime."

*

We had been driving for about five hours now, and the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. That didn't seem to bother Ave, who didn't even stir, but I always found it annoying to have to drive while looking straight at the sun. I suppose it could be worse. We could've easily gotten into an accident (noting the fact that I'm seventeen and have only known how to drive for a year) and be dead in a ditch. Or maybe the cops could have caught up to us and arrested Ave for whatever they claim she did and me for aiding her escape. You can actually get convicted of that, and get up to a fifteen year prison sentence. Though I suppose I'm still a minor so it probably won't be as bad.

I didn't manage to get any more details out of Ave, but I did manage to calm her down enough to get her to fall asleep. I didn't even know where we were driving, I just kept going wherever would get us as far from Detroit and the police and anyone who would know about Ave and I.

I glanced at the old, flickering clock attached to the car which I doubted was accurate, but at least it might give me an estimate. It said it was 5:30, but it had also been saying it was 5:30 since we passed Grand Rapids, so I guessed it was around 6:15.

So I had been up all night. Yeah, I was a bit tired. But that didn't matter. I had found an old CD mix of some Christian artists that Uncle John must have burned when Aunt Ruth wasn't around, including Skillet, Thousand Foot Krutch, Fee, and a few other people that my grandma wouldn't know, that I had put in, which helped keep me alert. It wasn't like I was gonna fall asleep anyways - I was deep in thought.

I couldn't just avoid the subject forever, and if I didn't answer this simply complicated question soon I was going to go crazy: what am I?

When I ask that, I don't literally mean am I human or gorilla or peacock or martian, but I mean what's my sexuality? I'm not homophobic in the slightest, in fact, I believe my mother was Bisexual, but every time I have questioned my sexuality I had came to the simple conclusion that I was straight, with no doubts.

I'm obviously not gay, because then I wouldn't haveamaybesmallcrushishmaybeonAve think Ave was attractive and stuff, but I could have possibly be straight either, otherwise I wouldn't have enjoyed the kiss with Ollie-The-Jock that night, let alone kissed back and possiblyhadmaybefeelingsforhimtooIdontknow. So would that mean I'm Bi? Pan?

One of the two. It didn't really matter. It's not like a random stranger is gonna walk up to me and ask if I'm Bisexual or Pansexual.

Dangit. Now I probably jinxed it and it's gonna happen.

"A RANDOM STRANGER IS TOTALLY GONNA WALK UP TO ME AND ASK SEXUALITY IN THE NEXT TWENTY FOUR HOURS!!!!!! HOW DO YA LIKE THAT FATE?!"

Wait, did I just say that out loud?!

"Whatdidyasay?" Ave said groggily as she looked up at me like I was insane, wiping a bit of drool off of her cheek. Who am I kidding, at this point I had passed the line between slightly off ordinary and insane.

"Nothing," I bit my lip to prevent myself from bursting out into laughter. That proves I'm totally, 101% insane. YAY ME! "Go back to sle-" I stopped talking mid-sentence as possibly the worst sound in the entire world filled my ears: the engine sputtering, before the car came to a sudden stop.

"Fuck." Ave mumbled under her breath as my heart skipped a beat, every bit of my will to curl up and fall asleep disappearing and being replaced by adrenaline and fear.

"Did we just-"

"Yup." She answered before I could finish.

"What does one do in this situation?" I asked her, praying she would have some idea. Any idea.

"Well...find a gas station I suppose."

We both looked out the window.

I had no idea where the hell we were. Wherever we were, it was not a place either of us had ever been to, because Ave wore the same face of confusion that I felt. At least we were in a town, even though the population couldn't be larger than four thousand and all the buildings looked like they could collapse at any given moment, crushing and killing everyone that happened to be within a fifty feet radius of it.

There was literally no traffic, which proved to be a blessing as we were literally in the middle of the street, right outside of a gloomy looking elementary school, with not a single car in the parking lot. It reminded me of my old school in Flint. The small metal monkey bars that while going across even the short people like me could touch the ground with no struggle and the swings that made those annoying screechy sounds whenever you tried to swing on them, like they hadn't been oiled in twenty or so years.

I remember once, when I was six and about to enter first grade, my mom took me to the park and played with me for hours on end, straight until the sun went down. We threw balls back and forth (or more like chased after balls, as neither of us could throw to save our lives) she pushed me on the swing and did little kid stuff like that.

It wasn't that great of a day - in fact, I'm not even sure why I remember it. The only reason I even started to think about it was because I'm literally the most nostalgic person in the entire universe and had to take possibly the worst times and change them to random memories of my childhood.

I commanded my mind to shut up.

"Well...there should be a gas station somewhere abound here...." She said, sounding unsure of herself.

"Hopeful-"

I stopped talking mid sentence as I glanced into the rearview mirror. All the air seemed to escape my lungs as I struggled to move. Blink. Breathe. Do anything.

"Leo?" Ave looked over at me, "Are you okay?"

I wanted to reply, but when I opened my mouth nothing would come out. She then followed my gaze through the mirror, and went as white as an Alaskan winter.

The blue and red lights danced on her skin and the drove closer and closer, until they stopped about a yard behind us.

Ave turned her head, so she was looking me directly in the eye. I could see the panic she was feeling in her expression, despite how hard she was trying to restrain it. Part of me wanted to lean over and hug her, but the other wanted to punch her in the face. We were going to get arrested. These could be the last few minutes of freedom. I know I'm only seventeen, but what if whatever this crime Ave committed (or was framed for or whatever) was like some terrorist attack or something? I could get arrested for the rest of my pathetic life just because I helped her avoid arrest herself.

And why did I do that? Because I felt guilty about making out with her ex boyfriend.

Well I mean and she's my best friend and has kept me alive and functioning in this hellhole year too and I guess I wanted to repay her, but still. I had no right to be mad at her, even though she very well would havecould've bombed a hospital or something. The only person I had the right to be mad at was myself. Because I agreed to come with. I didn't try to force it out of her - whatever happened, all because of whatever feelings I have for her. Guilt? Romantic? Platonic? All of the above?

"Leo," she began, but stopped as a sharp tap hit the car window. We both looked up in horror to see a man in a blue uniform. A police officer. Or, to be specific, an assistant police chief, according to the badge proudly placed over his left pocket. He had ginger hair, that tumbled out of his clean white hat and down, almost reaching his shoulders. His police uniform was spotless and perfectly fitted, like something you would wear to some preppy private school. He wouldn't have been intimidating, if it weren't for the large muscles practically ripping out of his way too tight sleeves, and the confident, yet blank expression on his face.

I let out a small, girlish squeal of alarm, before covering it up with a cough before Ave could tell the difference, and slowly rolled down the grimy window.

"Er...hey?"

Redhead Guy raised his eyebrows. "Everything alright here kids?"

I almost pointed out that this man couldn't have been more than five years older than me, but I bit my tongue and nodded as Ave butted in for me.

"Yes, sir we are alright." Ave sputtered out. She had disguised her voice to sound like a typical Spanish accent, heavy enough so anyone who knew her real voice wouldn't know it was her, but not heavy enough to make it impossible to understand. Or maybe her real voice was fake and this accent was her way of talking normally, given that she was from Mexico. But that wasn't the time to think about my abundance of conspiracy theories.

"What are ya folks doin' out in the middle of the road?" He tilted his head, his face still stern, though his voice didn't sound at all like it. He had a heavy southern accent with a slight drawl tinted in it.

"Er...we ran out of gas." I sputtered out, which wasn't a lie.

The redhead guy eyed us up and down, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a walkie talkie. "Boss, there are two kids who ran outta gas."

Whoever was at the other side of the line was clearly angry, because even though neither Ave or I could understand a word coming out of his mouth, I could hear the anger in his voice as he screamed at the redhead guy.

The Redhead, who at this point I had just given the nickname "Red" to, sighed in anger, before shoving the walkie talkie back into his pants pocket, the man on the other side still screaming gibberish.

"Erm..." I scratched the back of my head awkwardly.

"I suppose I could give you guys a lift. Where are y'all heading too?"

Ave and I slowly turned to see each other, expressions of pure terror etched on our faces.

"I don't really think that would be-"

"YES!" Ave cut me off frantically, dropping the accent entirely. But she seemed to notice that, as she stiffened, and continued, back in her Spanish voice, "I mean yes, that would be very...nice."

Red smiled at her, apparently unaware of what was going on, as I gave her a what the hell are you trying to get us killed?! glare.

"Well," Red cleared his throat after talking a bit more to the screaming guy in his walkie talkie. "I'm not needed at work until five if y'all are headed somewhere nearby."

Ave looked over at me, then at Red, then at me, then at Red again. "Could you give us a minute?" She asked him sweetly, batting her eyelashes and giving him a seductive yet cute smile.

"Er, yeah! I'll just be-" I shut the window before he could finish, leaving him very confused, and turned to her, panicked.

"What the hell Ave?!"

She sighed, exasperated, rubbing her temples with her fingers like my mother used to when she got a migraine. "I told you that you should've left, for God's sake! This is my battle to fight!"

"I couldn't just leave you there!"

"Yes you could've! And I wish you had! Maybe I wouldn't be in this situation if you had just left your big nose out of my business!"

My jaw dropped, as my face went red. "I'm sorry, but I recall YOU being the one to show up at my house in the middle of the night, throwing rocks at my window!"

"I panicked! I didn't know what else to do! Besides, all I wanted was a bit of money, not you!"

I let out a shaky sigh, pretending what she had just spat at me didn't hurt as much as it did. How was I supposed to reply to this? Especially when she was right?

Luckily, my saving grace showed up in all of his glory. And when I say that I mean, Red tapped on the window with a long bony finger, shifting awkwardly. "Are y'all ready?"

I ignored Ave's hesitant moan as I rolled down the window. "Yeah, I believe we are."

"You just gonna leave this thing here?" He gave us a goofy look as we stepped out of the car, my original nervousness disappearing as a wave of confidence hit me.

I shrugged, thankful that Ave was remaining silent and letting me do the talking. "It's not even mine...so it doesn't matter."

"If you say so." Red snorted, leading us into the back of his police chief car. "Now, where are you kids headed to?"

"Holland." I answered automatically. If Ave got us into this situation, I might as well make the best of it.

"Holland." He repeated, raising his eyebrows. "Any particular reason?"

A grin escaped onto my face, though I wasn't exactly sure why. "My father lives there."


	6. Chapter 6

There are some days you just can't forget.

For example, a day you would never forget could be a near death experience. Perhaps you got in a major car crash, and had you chosen to sit in the passenger seat instead of in the back by your little sister who wanted to play barbies with you, you would have been killed instantly. 

That would be rather hard to forget, obviously. Those are one of the kinds of days where you remember everything. You remember what the car that crashed into you looked like. Perhaps it was a fancy black BMW with one of those custom license plates and the driver wore an abnormal amount of hair gel and the constant expression that he was going to kill someone. Perhaps he was a businessman. Wait, no, even better. A lawyer. Perhaps this man was a lawyer and was on the phone with one of his clients and didn't see the red light, turned the corner and drove straight into the side of your rusty old Toyota. You could hear your sister sobbing and your mother letting out words that you would get a detention for if you chose to repeat in school. 

But of course, this is just an example.

Wow, I went way too deep into that one just to give this a larger word count....

Forget I said anything about the past two paragraphs, because that was not a true story, though it very well could apply to someone. Maybe Ollie-The-Jock or Ave's friend Katherine went through something similar at one point in their lives. Maybe even I did, but I can't remember, being too little.

Shit, I'm rambling again.

To get straight to the point, there are days I can never forget, no matter how many times I bang my head against the wall, trying to lose all my memory like they once did in Spongebob (yes, I actually have tried that). A certain day in particular stands out, however. A day that was like the first domino to be knocked down, starting that chain reaction until all of them are scattered across the floor and your mother is mad because you were suppose to be cleaning your room and all you did was just make an even bigger mess.

To put that into simpler words: that day ruined my life.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Omigod Leo, you sound like a teenage girl screaming at her mom when she doesn't let her go to the mall with her friends the night before her SAT's.

But this isn't a joke. I'm not a teenage girl, I don't have to take my SAT's for a while, and in case you haven't noticed by now, my mother is dead.

That day was a rather uneventful day, until it happened. It seemed like just any other day. February seventeenth. Not a date that really sticks out as important or life changing.

I went to hell school, I went to chess club, I came home, I did my homework. Normal stuff for a second grade boy at the bottom of the social pyramid. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that seemed off, maybe hinting at what would happen that night.

Maybe if that door hadn't slammed, the rest of it wouldn't have happened. What if I had placed my DC Comic backpack (I was seven, don't judge!) in the small doorway between the hallway and the bedroom. Maybe if I had done that like I did almost every other day, it would have been worth it in the end, despite how mad my father got every single time I did that. It would have saved my parents relationship, possibly. 

Besides, I suppose I owe it to them. The fight was about me, after all.

"GODDAMMIT MARGARET!" My father's voice boomed only moments after the door slammed shut, not sounding at all like himself. The walls shook, the floor shook, I shook. Everything shook.

I tossed my History essay about George Washington's contribution to the Revolutionary War to the side (wow I was a nerdy child), and stood up from the little metal lawn chair I had stolen from the neighbors to put in my room as a desk chair, because all the other chairs we had were either too big, too small or neon pink with little sparkly images of Cinderella painted onto it.

"Mom?" I squeaked in my little third grade voice, opening my heavy wooden bedroom door just a sliver, so just my eye was peaking out, staring out into the hallway where they were arguing. Because a hallway right in front of your son's bedroom was a perfect place to have a major fight."Dad?"

They either didn't hear me or pretended not to, because they kept arguing as if I were that little Asian ghost girl from the 1940s who didn't speak English - the one I internally joked about Ave being possessed by. Or maybe I wasn't joking...

"Who is he?!" My father continued, his tan face burning a bright red and his voice growing louder and louder every word.

"I told you everything already Jonathan!"

At this point, I was sure something was really wrong, because my mother had never referred to my father as Jonathan, but rather, for the past fourteen years they had been married, Johnny or Potato (long story). 

But enough about nicknames and Asian ghosts. I knew why they were arguing. The moment my father asked who he was.

We aren't gonna talk about him. I wouldn't even say his name if I didn't have to, but I suppose I will. But not now.

There was no proof they were arguing about him. No saying his name or making any reference to him or his fancy black BMW or his greasy blonde hair.

I just knew.

I knew that there was no one else in this entire universe that they could be arguing about except this one blonde man that for the last freaking time, we aren't going to talk about right now.

Then my mom screamed.

Not a scream like a man holding a huge bloody ax just jumped through the window with three eyes and a raccoon tail (or basically any scene involving Wendy from The Shining movie), but more like a my husband just slapped me kind of scream. 

That's exactly what happened.

From the little crack in the doorway, I watched in shock as Jonathan made one clean, swift motion across my mother's face, before turning around and storming out of the house and into the cold Winter night.

"Kid, you okay?" 

"Huh?" I jumped up, and if it weren't for my seatbelt my head would've slammed into the car roof.

"I said, are you okay?" Red repeated, looking at me through the rearview mirror. Looking back at this, that probably wasn't a very safe thing for a police officer to be doing, while driving down the highway with two teenagers in the back seat (luckily, we were not being arrested, that would be even worse).

"Yeah, sorry." I sighed, resting my head on my fist. "Just zoned out, I guess."

Reliving one of the worst moments of my life. I wanted to say, but chose against it. I didn't think that it would've been very appropriate, plus, then Red and Ave would ask questions that I most certainly did not want to answer.

"I gotcha." He winked, then returned him focus to the busy morning road, full of people clearly late for work and Elementary school busses delivering children to school. Red was a good driver, after you set aside his non existent attention span. Or at least he was a better driver than me, in the sense that he isn't an overly tired and stressed 17 year old without a license and was practically blind without his glasses, which were conveniently on his bedside table. Anyways, Red was great.

So far, we hadn't run anyone over. That was a plus to all this chaos.

I was thankful for Red. 

He was a cool guy, for a southern redhead. I mean, he's giving us a three hour ride all the way to Holland and though he asked questions, he didn't push them further when we clearly were uncomfortable answering. Either that or we were just sparing ourselves from a life sentence to prison. 

Ave let out a light chuckle, though from knowing her for almost a year now, I could tell it was forced.

We hadn't talked the entire ride, since our small argument in Uncle John's broken down car that we just left in the middle of the road. Maybe that wasn't the smartest of ideas, but I'm not a smart person so you couldn't have expected much from me. Instead, blame Red for that - he's the police officer, after all.

Wow, I really do have a problem with rambling.

That part doesn't matter. 

What matters is that Ave and I were having a silent argument for over two hours at that point. She was doing that one weird thing that all teenage girls do - that weird silent glare-not -glare thing that somehow seems to pierce deep into your soul. I was doing my best not to look at her or think about her or accept the fact that she existed and was in the same car as me, but obviously I was failing miserably.

Red was blissfully oblivious to what was going on, as he drove along the long stretch of road while whistling a tune from the newest Taylor Swift Album, a song I only knew because of Aunt Ruth's obsession with it. 

I leaned back in my seat and stared out the window - the opposite direction of Ave. My faint reflection stared back at me, my dark eyes droopy and my face expressionless. That was most likely because of my lack of sleep the previous night, though the idea of closing my eyes and drifting off into a dreamless sleep sounded completely absurd.

How could someone sleep with all of this going on?

℘

"Oi, Pollard. Another kid's gone missing."

I groaned as I leaned away from the window I had apparently used as a pillow, opening my eyes and wiping the drool off of my cheek. Apparently someone could still manage to fall asleep in the middle of this mess.

Or maybe I was just special.

Red, who had just drove straight through a red light, looked over at me through the rearview mirror. Wearing that goofy grin of his, he greeted me in a way that somehow made the past twenty four hours even weirder; "G'morning sunshine."

"Uh...hi?" I replied as awkwardly as humanly possible (God, I should get an award for making people uncomfortable) as I stretched out my arms, cracking my knuckles and blinking until my fuzzy vision became as clear as it was ever going to get without my glasses on.

"I ship it." Ave teased, her voice dry and her red lips forming a strained smile across her face.

"Oh hush, doll!" Red rolled his eyes, as his walkie talkie went off again. It was the same voice as earlier today when he picked us up - his boss, apparently. 

"Pollard!"

He groaned, reluctantly pulling the little black walkie talkie out of his front pocket. "'ello boss."

"Where in the heavens are you?!"

He looked back at Ave and I, unclicking the speaking button thingy (in case you can't tell, I had never used one of these things before). "Where are we?"

Looking out the window, in the distance I could see a faint image of a water tower, only a few miles away, though I could not make out what it said.

"Zeeland." Ave piped from next to me, her voice still disguised with her rather accurate Spanish accent. Not that I would really know the difference if it were faulty. "Isn't that pretty close to Holland?"

I nodded slightly, clenching my fists and digging my unclipped nails into the palms of my hands, as Red reported back to his boss. 

This was a really stupid idea. I thought, my stomach churning. Going back to Holland, where it happened, what was the sense in this?!

I could feel Ave watching me, her gaze crawling on my skin, but I avoided looking back at her and instead chose to focus my attention on the conversation between Red and his boss. It was better than thinking about Ave, and was way better than thinking about my father and going to our old home.

"Why the bloody hell are you in Zeeland?! You know what - nevermind. It doesn't matter. Just keep your eye out for some more fugies."

"Oh, this better be good."

"We got a call earlier this morning from some hysterical woman claiming her nephew has vanished. We believe he's with that Fernandez chick." 

"I'll keep my eyes out for 'em." and with that, he shoved the small, black walkie talkie back into his pocket and continued to drive down the long gravel road as if nothing had happened.

Do you remember when you were a small child, around five, and you had done something you were not supposed to? Like maybe you broke something important of your mothers, and you just know when she gets home from work you're going to be in so much trouble. It feels like the end of the entire world, and at that age, it is the end of the world. Because that feeling of panic and knowledge that you can't ever reverse what happened is the worst feeling in the entire universe.

Imagine that times ten.

That's how it felt, that day, in the back of Red's police car with Ave next to me, surely feeling just as bad. Probably even worse.

"Pull over!" She shrieked, losing her false accent completely. Her tan face was burning a bright scarlet, and I could see the fear in her eyes. Below her, Ave grabbed her blue duffle bag that she had brought along, slowly unzipping it. I tore my gaze away from it, so I would not draw attention to whatever she was doing. Not that Red would likely notice, but it was best to stay on the safe side of things.

"What the-" He turned around to face us, looking perplexed. "What happened to your voice?! What's going on?"

"You heard me!"

Red didn't stop, but instead chose to drive even faster, going at a speed that most certainly had to be illegal. 

Gripping the black leather armrest as if my life depended on it (honestly, it probably did) I shouted in the most intimidating voice I could muster; "What the hell?! Are you trying to get us all killed?!"

"Shut your trap for a second, would ya?" He snapped back at me, not taking his eyes off the road. I could see him from the reflection of the windshield - his expression was near impossible to read, as he wore a poker face not even Ollie could mirror. 

"Leo," Ave grabbed my hand and jolting me out of my thoughts, whispering at a volume that Red would've had to have been a superhuman to hear. "We jump on three."

I gaped at her. "What-" 

"One!"

Red whipped around. "What in the heavens-"

Ave had grabbed her bag with one hand, and the other was grabbing the handle to her door. I gulped as I mimicked her, trying not to look down at the road and how fast we were going and all the possibilities that could happen if we jumped. 

Though the road was, for the most part, empty, someone could run into us as we jumped or while we are on the gravel or we could break our arms or our legs or our necks or Red could stop and shoot us or maybe all of the above.

"Two!" 

I then began to fear for my life. This time, it wasn't one of my usual pessimistic thoughts where my mind came up with the worst thing that could ever happen (something my old therapist liked to call, catastrophe thinking) but an actual logical thing that would most likely happen and a true reason to feel fear.

This was a really bad idea. This was a really really really bad idea. Why did I even come here? Why did I ever agree to come with Ave? Why did I even chose to be friends with her? 

Was there another option? Was there any other way to get out of doing something legitimately life threatening?

What other choice did we have?

"Three!"


	7. Chapter 7

Ave's scream was one of those screams filled with pure horror, though that was probably because we literally jumped out of a moving cop car so that would be expected.

The jump was terrifying, mainly because the jump turned into a fall as the ground slipped from under my feet, and I landed almost face first into the rocky road, the force flipping me over a couple times, digging sharp shards of gravel into my skin.

Luckily, no other cars happened to be near us at the time, eliminating the possibility of us getting run over by a speeding farmer in a red pickup truck trying to get back from the grocery store before his chocolate ice cream melts. That was always a plus.

My scratched up body, which I had lost total control over, finally came to a painful stop when I flew straight down into a large pile of fresh mud, most likely from last night's storm though I don't know how a storm in Detroit would make its way to Holland. 

Blood was everywhere. Despite my shitty vision, I could see stains of red on the rocks, and on my hands as I pushed myself onto my back. 

Pain sucks. A lot. It's annoying, inconvenient and well...painful.

In that moment in time, all I could feel was that stupid sensation of every single part of my body wanting to fall off, which for some reason came as a very huge shock to me. 

I believe that shows something about my lack of intelligence, because not once did it occur to me that jumping out of a moving vehicle would very likely result in some rather painful injuries, and I probably should express that concern to Ave before we spend a week in the hospital. If you're lucky. Say, if you do this same stunt but on a freeway in Las Vegas, you are very likely going to be run over by multiple cars, which you could die doing. And dying is bad, because dying can be deadly. 

Wait a second...

Moving on.

That was not my idea, so don't blame me for this, even though I didn't say anything about it being probably stupider than all the stupid ideas combined (though we had no other options). Ave is the mastermind, per usual. 

Oh crap-

"Ave?" I groaned, pushing myself up off the ground. Rocks dug deep into my palm, and my arms were screaming in protest, but I ignored them entirely. My mind was buzzing with frantic questions. Was Ave okay? Was she alive? Had she even jumped out?

When there was no response, I quickly rose from the ground, my legs feeling like jello, and my head spinning. As soon as I came up, my legs gave way and I collapsed again, most surely looking like an idiot. Dust flew up from under me, creating a large brown cloud like when someone farts in a cartoon. Coughing and blowing the dust away, I stood up again, this time much more carefully. Only then did I realize I was still totally barefoot and my feet were probably in the most pain of all, but I pushed that thought away.

"Ave?" I said again, much louder than before.

My vision was still annoyingly blurry - blurrier than normal, probably from what just happened, but I still managed to make out a tall figure standing near the other side of the road, a few steps into the field that we were driving by. I took a deep sigh in relief, before hacking up the dust I just inhaled.

Then, even though I was in no condition to do so, I sprinted as fast as my little legs could go to where she was standing. She was staring off at something else, completely ignoring me as I came to a stop right next to her, and practically screamed at her if she was okay. 

I could tell she heard me, as she flinched. A thin trail of blood was running down from a large cut on her temple to her cheek, but she didn't seem to notice that either. In her left hand, she was holding the unzipped blue duffle bag, as if preparing to reach into it and pull something out on the spot.

I began to follow her gaze, my body stiffening up as my vision made contact with the image of Red's small police car lying on its hood, halfway into a ditch, small shards of glass surrounding the vehicle and tiny flames flickering out of the side facing towards the cloudy morning sky above us.

I barely had time to acknowledge what had just happened when I saw a mess of orange, blood stained hair rise from behind the side of the car.

Red had a gun clasped in his left hand, as his trembling right hand helped guide him up to a standing position. He rested his arm on one of the gravel covered rubber tires in order to remain upright. Trembling insanely from head to toe, I could see the pure agony shining in his eyes.

He took a couple deep breaths, before amining the gun up at Ave and I. "Put your hands in the air!"

Then he collapsed.

I swear to God, this was not our fault.

Okay, maybe it was a little. We did jump out of his car, likely causing him to swerve and being the main reason he flipped over in the first place. But I can 101% assure you Ave and I didn't shoot him or anything insane like that. Ave wasn't on the run for murder, after all. Well, I didn't know that at the time, but I was pretty sure she just stole from the wrong person or something like that. That was a pretty Ave-ish thing to do. 

I don't know which is scarier: the fact that he could have literally been dead or how neither of us seemed to acknowledge it at the time.

What if he was dead? What if he had serious head trauma from the crash and actually just died in front of us? Was what SHOULD have been running through our heads. But because I'm insane, I almost burst out laughing.

Though we weren't at fault, I will admit, that in that moment in time, watching his eyes roll back into his head and him falling backwards into a huge puddle of thick, fresh mud like you see in cartoons was one of the the funniest thing that could ever happen in that scenario. 

Until it wasn't, because a police officer could be dead because of us.

But screw that and my pessimistic mind, because for a moment, it was quiet. Despite the shocks of throbbing pain shooting through every single inch of my body and the fact that Ave and I literally could get arrested at any moment, if any other cops showed up that managed to not crash and pass out, it was peaceful. In that small fragment of time, we were safe.

Naturally, I was the one to break the silence.

"What the hell?"

Ave yelped in surprise, as if she had forgotten I was there. "Jesus Christ Leo! Give me a warning next time, alright?"

The peace was over, I figured.

I chose to ignore what she just said. "W-what should we do?"

Ave twirled her fingers around to straps of her bag, lifting it up and down in gentle swings as she stared nervously at the unconscious ginger. "Leave him." she said finally, her tone of voice unreadable. I wasn't expecting that, but then again, two days ago I wouldn't have expected that I would have made out with Ave's gay ex either. 

Life is strange.

"What?"

"I said, leave him." She repeated.

"We can't just..."

"We can and we will, Leo."

Her voice echoed in my mind like small little daggers, piercing any sense of moral I had left, as I looked back at Red, a fresh puddle of blood surrounding him.

I knew it was wrong, repaying all of what Red did for us by leaving him unconscious to possibly die in the middle of the road. But I was scared. More than scared, actually. More like completely terrified out of my wits. But terrified of what, you may ask?

Everything and nothing at the same time, forcefully mixed into a collage of pure horror, barely standable.

I tore my gaze away from Red and looked up at her, wide eyed. "But-"

"Listen to me!" She shrieked, sounding slightly hysterical. She took a deep breath, calming herself down, before continuing in a tone only slightly above a whisper. "We have to go. Now."

℘

On the corner of Elm and Baker street, there was a tiny house. 

The house.

My childhood home. 

Painted a dark brown, it blended in well with the unkept garden in the front yard. Vines crept up the sides, touching the maroon roof that the trees in front of it made hard to spot from a distance. Different flowers and weeds littered the front lawn, passing the oakwood fence and spreading into the gravel road. To say the very least, it was not an appealing sight. 

Finding the house proved to be easier than you would expect.

We walked. And walked. We walked so much I thought we were headed to some place on the other side of the world, like Russia or Iceland. 

At first I didn't even recognise the house. When I lived there, almost ten years ago, my mother kept everything well organized. Now that she was dead, my father had clearly gone amok. 

The pasty white garage door was wide open, which was a really stupid idea on my dads part, given that this was Michigan and crime was abundant. It was empty of any cars, including the red pickup truck I remember my father having when I still lived with him.

"No one's home." I said as I looked over to Ave. 

She stared right back at me, frowning and appearing to be deep in thought. "Who lives here?"

"Just my dad and his girlfriend." 

"Where are they?"

I paused for a second to think about that. Where were they? I knew for a fact my father did not have a job, and last time I saw Honey (assuming they were still together - it had been over a year since I had even had a phone call with him) she worked nights only. Maybe they were living life, which was of course completely absurd.

"No idea...maybe we should go through the back just to be safe."

She nodded and followed me as I hopped over the fence and walked into the backyard, that I had almost forgotten even existed. A worn down tire swing hung from a thin rope on a tree, swaying back and forth in the breeze, but besides that, the land was bare.

Facing the back of the house, you could see a small window that was half above and half below the dirt. My old bedroom window.

"Follow me." I said, walking over to it, and lowered myself down into the pit. 

Ave did so, trailing a few feet behind me as I pulled the surprisingly unlocked window open, and crawled straight into my bedroom.

The window was a large one, and I'm a very short person, so getting through the tight space was easier than I would have expected.But being me, I was of course, absolutely terrified. Keeping my eyes firmly shut, I held onto the windowsill as I lowered myself down, until my feet hit the carpeted floor.

I looked pathetic, but that was the least of my worries.

After waiting a moment or two, I hesitantly opened my eyes and glanced around the room.

Ave had apparently gotten down much swifter than I had, because she was leaning up against the navy blue wall and appearing as exhausted as I felt. Her bag had been set down, and she looked a second away from collapsing.

But instead of that, she spoke; "Is this your room?"

"Was." I corrected vaguely, having been barely paying attention. 

Instead of focusing on what really mattered, I was taking a typical journey down Memory Lane. This was my bedroom for eight years, until the divorce. Even though it wasn't even technically a divorce. My father walked out for a month, came back and said we had to leave this house or he would sue us. Or, try, but we couldn't risk losing, given that at the time we were dirt poor. So my mother and I packed our bags and moved in with her parents for a year.

Now, I could go on and tell the very in depth story of my mother and I's history, but I would rather not. Because I wasn't only thinking about the divorce, no, my mind was drifting towards random memories I had forgotten (or tried to) that occured in this room. Some good, some back, some neither. 

Like the man that I assumed my mother and father were arguing about, the man that made everything that happened my fault. Who we will talk about eventually, but not now, although he was a dominant image in my thoughts.

"It's cute." She picked up a stuffed teddy bear from off of my unmade bed. Apparently my father never even touched my room for the past few years. "What's his name?"

"Uh...Teddy?" I guessed, having no memory of this teddy bear's existence.

"Teddy. I like it." She hugged it tight to her chest. 

"Keep it." I shrugged lightly, sitting down on my childhood bed and dangling my feet over the edge. 

She sat down next to me, appearing concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking, I guess." 

"About?"

I said nothing.

Neither did Ave, but instead she silently wrapped her arm over my shoulder, saying everything words never could. 

"What now?"

I sighed, closing my eyes. "I have no idea."


	8. Chapter 8

Thump

Thump

Thump

The sound of thundering footsteps jolted me awake, giving me a minor heart attack while I tried to process where the hell I was.

I looked around the room, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the little bit of light that poured through the open window to the left of me. Typical me. Waking up in a stranger's basement. I thought grimly.

"Hello?" I called out loudly, before covering my mouth with my hand and preventing myself from making anymore noise and revealing that we were here, because just as I said that, a throbbing pain in my head reminded me of the events that had just occurred.

I assumed that somewhere in that chaotic mess, I had hit my head somewhere and caused the pain I had just felt. It didn't seem to be serious, (definitely not as serious as whatever happened to Red, at least) so I chose to push that thought to the side of my mind, as it likely happened when Ave and I so cleverly jumped out of a moving vehicle.

Because we were just that smart.

At least I wasn't actually in a strangers basement, though at this point in my life, my dad had become a stranger.

God I'm dark.

"L-Leo?"

If my hand wasn't already over my mouth, I would've screamed. But instead, because my reflexes suck, I jumped up onto my (still bare) feet. Being naturally clumsy, and high off tiredness, I landed awkwardly. The ground swept from underneath my feet, and I flew backwards and landed back in the same position I had just been in. Until my butt hit the soft bed that I must have fallen asleep on, however, I was sure I was falling to my doom.

If I wasn't preoccupied with thoughts of death, I would've been embarrassed.

"Jesus Christ Ave!" I whisper shouted at her, who, judging by where her voice was coming from, was on the floor, only inches from the bed. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry." She mumbled. "Where are you? I mean...I can't-nevermind" I laughed quietly as I felt her hand graze my foot.

"What are you doing?"

"Sorry!" Ave repeated, slowly rising up from off the ground. She still managed to look stunning, even with multiple cuts and scrapes all over her body and a tone of worry etched into her expression. Her dark hair had become a tangled mess, and her clothes were in shreds, but she looked more like royalty than anyone I had ever seen before.

Oh lord that was cheesy.

Despite the darkness, I could see her frown, as if she could hear my cringey thoughts. But if she could, she didn't let on as she spoke. "Any idea what time it is?"

"Uh...no. But it's like..dark out. So night. Probably."

A+ wording there, Leo.

"Right."

If it weren't for another series of thumps from upstairs, there would've been an awkward silence between us.

I swore under my breath.

"I assume your father is home." Ave's face grew paler and paler by the second.

"Apparently so." I nodded distantly, my mind swarming with thoughts. I hadn't seen my father in God knows how long and now he was only feet away from me. This was all way too real for me.

Seeing him again, I couldn't do that. Just thinking about him, everything he's done, filled me with feelings I couldn't describe correctly, no matter how hard I tried. Probably because I myself didn't know exactly what they were. Rage? Fear? Hurt? All of the above?

Maybe if he hadn't walked out that day, my mother wouldn't be dead. I wouldn't be in this situation right now, in trouble with the law, questioning my sexuality, with a girl whom I had no idea what I felt for her. If he hadn't walked out, maybe I would be a normal teenager living a normal teenage life.

Oh who am I kidding? I could never be normal, no matter the circumstance.

I hated it down there. Absolutely hated it.

I hated the rush of memories I was getting. I hated being cooped up in my old room like a prisoner. I hated how chill Ave was being about this all. I hated how awful I felt, both physically and mentally.

I just hated it all.

Then, without any reason, I stood up, careful not to step on anything that could make any noise. Ave opened her mouth, likely to question what I was doing, but before she do so, I put a thin, pale finger to my lip, signaling for her to be quiet.

Then, without another thought, I tiptoed towards the door, silently motioning for her to follow me. She looked confused, but didn't say anything as I slipped through the oak wooden door, entering a thin hallway, where a staircase at the end stood, in such bad shape I was afraid it may collapse at any given moment.

I hadn't been here in ten years, yet it looked the exact same as the day my mother and I packed up and moved, which was both sad and pathetic on my fathers part. How I felt about this, the rushes of memories I tried so hard to ignore, I didn't know.

"What are you doing?" Ave whispered as quiet as humanly possible, her dark red lips only inches from my ear as she leaned in from behind me.

I didn't reply.

"Leo!" Her voice rose slightly, an expression of urgency on her face. She looked so helpless, so scared, but I knew I didn't have a choice. I was going to go crazy if I stayed in this stupid basement a second longer.

So I continued to ignore her, as I stepped up towards the ancient staircase, placed my hand on the dark, splintering railing and closed my eyes.

I inhaled the musty air, giving me a new sense of confidence. Without another thought, I lifted my foot up and began to climb up the stairs. Every step I took made an annoyingly loud creak, piercing my eardrums, but I was no longer concerned about making noise.

Besides, my heart was probably pounding louder than any sound a human could be capable of creating.

When I reached the top step, I didn't hesitate, unlike usual. No stopping to ponder my choice, no wondering if what I was doing was totally stupid and I should go back into my old bedroom and climb out the window or something. Instead, I reached out and gripped the brass door handle as tight as a physically could without breaking it. I still had no honest goal in mind but that didn't seem to concern me at the time as I pushed on the door until it swung wide open, pouring light into the previously dimly lit hallway.

I suppose I should have been scared, too. Scared out of my mind. I mean, I was about to see Jonathan Pérez, the man who gave me life, then ruined it, for the first time in almost ten years. Unless I didn't see him, in that case I would just walk out of the house, and probably end up dead in a ditch an hour later.

Sadly, that wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen.

I was half expecting my father to be standing right in front of the door, as if he was expecting me to be here or something.

But he wasn't, and I was unsure if I was disappointed or relieved.

Did I even want to see him? Or did I just want to get out of here? And why was I leaving Ave?

All those thoughts swarmed my mind, and I had an answer to none of them. I just kept walking, doing what my gut was urging me to.

Which was incredibly stupid of me.

Like, the stupidest thing I had done that day. Which said something, because I had jumped out of a speeding cop car and left a police officer to potentially die in the middle of the road. I had also made the choice to go into the cop car with Ave, who was impersonating a Spanish accent, while unsure of why I was helping her in the first place.

What I was about to do beat all of that.

I was now standing in the middle of the kitchen, where the basement stairs lead to. I had almost forgotten what it looked like, it had been so long. It was incredibly messy, and my dad had apparently gotten new cupboards, but besides that, the room looked the exact same as it did ten years ago. The same ugly brown tile floor, the same purple curtains, the same wood table that was somehow attached to the wall.

This used to be the place I came every day after school. When I was upset for God knows what reason (second grade drama was rough), this was the place I wanted to be. This is the place I felt homesick for when sleeping over at someone's house, the place I always longed to be.

In that moment, the idea of that place being home seemed crazy.

Because it wasn't home. Not at all.

It was just a stupid house on a stupid road in a stupid town in Michigan. Nothing special. Any sentimental value I had for the place, any feeling of comfort the idea of it gave me, was gone.

Per usual, I was unsure what caused that to happen, what caused my brain to suddenly change my view on this place. But it didn't matter and I didn't care.

"Hello?"

I screamed like a little girl, jumping almost five feet in the air and grabbing the nearest thing to me (a stapler off the kitchen counter) and held it close to my chest. "CHRIST HAVE MERCY!"

That was a rather odd first reaction of mine, given that I was Jewish, but you never really know with me anymore, do you?

"What the hell?!" The person screamed as a spoon flew right past my face. Of all the weapons someone could chose, they picked a spoon. Even a stapler was better than that.

I looked up at the person and gasped, my stomach churning. It wasn't my dad. No, not even close. It was so so so much worse.

"Who are you?!" My dad's girlfriend Honey screamed, throwing another spoon at my head, which I narrowly dodged.

"I..." I froze, unsure of what to say.

Her face softened ever so slightly. "You seem familiar..."

I said nothing, not because I didn't know what to say, but because I was afraid if I opened my mouth I would start sobbing like a little kid. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop and I would just cry and cry and cry until all the water in my body was gone and I would die of dehydration.

Honey frowned, appearing to be deep in thought. After a minute or two, she let out a sigh, and motioned at the kitchen table. "Sit down kid. Let's get you a cup of tea."

Her voice was light and sweet, yet at the same time very serious. It was a pretty voice, with a slight british accent. I had no idea she was from England.

I still didn't even know her name, but her voice seemed to give me reason. You're safe ,Leo. was what her voice seemed to say. I'm a friend. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise.

Which I suppose is why I sat down.

I watched as she set a little kettle on the stove, waited for a few minutes, until it began to steam, and poured the contents into two tiny cups, one green and one a light pink. Honey then sat across from me, placing one cup in front of me, and taking a large sip out of hers. Of course, I got the light pink.

"Now, talk." She spoke with power in her voice, still calming, but at the same time a voice you just know you can't say no to. So I talked. I told her everything, not because I felt an obligation, but because I needed to get it out, and I sensed that I could really trust her, even more than Ave. It was the same kind of feeling I had got from my mother.

I hadn't realized how much everything had been weighing me down, or how reliving it would be to just sit and talk without worry, until I had.

I started at the very beginning, even before Jonathan walked out on us. I told her about the reason I thought the fight between them was my fault - which Honey then spent God knows how long convincing me it wasn't my fault. Now, of course, I know that even if what happened was my fault, it had nothing to do with the fight.

The man's name was Seth. He was a distant family member - my paternal aunt's husband. We had the entire family over for Thanksgiving when I was seven years old, and he did some pretty messed up stuff when we were alone that I've said out loud to Honey and I will not be saying again, but if you have half a brain and really want to know, I think you can figure it out on your own.

Then I skipped to the fight between my mom and Jonathan, when he walked out for a month, then came back and demanded we leave. So we did, of course. We moved out and lived in some worn down house in Flint that I had grown to love. Then when I was 11 my mom got her job at Kingsleys and we moved to a less worn down house in Flint, meaning I had to change schools. That was hard on me, of course, but obviously it wasn't the worst thing I had gone through at that age. In fact, I had made a friend in my neighborhood, Tayler Larson, until he moved to San Diego for his father's stupid new job. I told Honey about my first (and only) girlfriend in 6th grade named Nadia that lasted for two weeks and she was honestly a total bitch, after I thought about it and we had broken up because she had "fallen" for some other dude named Alexander Ford. Honey laughed at that part.

I told her about when the police officer came to my house in the middle of the night (I left out the part about me watching Pretty Little Liars) and explained to me that my mother had been found in a bathroom stall in Kingsleys with a bullet in her skull. How they had no idea how it had happened - no suspects, or anything, so they ruled it out as a suicide, which was incredibly stupid of them. Then about moving in with my psychotic aunt and uncle, and meeting Ave at Salvation Army and the first day of school and when Ave's at the time boyfriend, Ollie-The-Jock told me to stay away from Ave. Then I skipped to their breakup, which I still knew next to nothing about, and when Ave went off the deep end.

Next, I went to one of the most awkward parts I had to talk about - Ollie and I's kiss. About how we had to work on a project together, and we ended up talking about his photography, then we fought, and he kissed me and told me to leave. How I was still confused about the whole ordeal, how none of it made any sense to me at all. Wrapping my head around all of this seemed to be impossible, and how it only got worse when Ave showed up at my house and we fled the city. I had no idea - I still didn't - what was wrong with her, and it scared me. Now, of course, she was hiding in the basement of this house, but I didn't feel the need to bring that up just yet.

Then I talked about Red, and how we had to jump out of his car (which he apparently forgot to lock the doors of) and he swerved and crashed and the car luckily didn't explode but he collapsed and could very well be dead - God, we could've literally killed a man because of our stupid choices. I talked about how we walked for hours, ten miles, give or take, to this house and snuck through the window. I told her about how much nostalgia I got from the place, and the basic mental breakdown I had after I had woken up, resulting in this conversation right now.

"And that's it." I sighed leaning back into the chair and feeling warmth rush to my face and tears spring in my eyes.

Then Honey laughed, shocking me. "Bloody hell, kid, you're in your fair share of a funk, aren't you?"

"I suppose so." I shrugged, laughing slightly myself.

"So...I could report you and this Ave chick for breaking and entering," my jaw dropped. "Or I could be a decent human being and lend you a few bucks and help you along your way to wherever the hell you're off to, before Jon comes home and sees you." She frowned. "Unless you want to see him, of course, but I don't think he would just go along with the fact that you snuck into our house with your fugitive friend."

"Yeah...I don't think seeing him would be a good idea." Understatement of the year right there. I frowned as well. "Wait...where is he?"

"Work." She said simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"He has a job?"

"Yeah, though it is kind of pathetic. He works nights at McDonalds."

I laughed. "Well...maybe Ave and I should get going. She's still in the basement, probably horrified that I came up here."

"No, stay the night. Jonathan won't be back until 6:30."

"What?" I raised my eyebrows. "No way, I really can't. I couldn't let you get into trouble for housing us. You've done enough just listening to me."

Honey shook her head, strands of her light pink hair flying around loosely at her shoulders. "No Leo, please. I insist."

"Really, you've done enough-" I went a bright red when it occurred to me that I had spent over half an hour ranting about my past and all the shit that has been happening in my pathetic excuse of a life since I prematurely burst out of my mother's womb, yet I still didn't know the woman who had listened to my mental breakdowns real name.

"Elizabeth." She finished, as if able to read my mind. Honestly, after the past day or so, if she told me she was a mind reader, I would believe it. That would be the least craziest thing that had happened so far on this wild journey.

"Elizabeth." I repeated, as if to confirm that I had heard her correctly.

She nodded, smiling warmly at me. "Now, if you really can't stay, go find that Ave friend of yours. Surely she's worried for you."

"Good idea..." Suddenly, I felt a wave of guilt come over me. I had literally just ditched my best friend. What if she thought I had gone upstairs to call the cops to turn her in, to betray her. She was probably down there somewhere, hiding and hyperventilating.

She probably hated me, and for a pretty damn good reason as well.

Before I could say anything else, I turned around and practically sprinted across the kitchen and down to the basement, skipping two, three stairs at a time. My heart was pounding so hard, for a second I thought I was having an epileptic seizure and that I was going to collapse on the floor and die.

Then I realized that I don't have epilepsy.

"Ave?" I called out, flipping on the lightswitch and illuminating my bedroom. My bed was unmade, as I had left it.

Silence.

If I had been panicking before, that was nothing compared to now.

"Ave?!" I repeated, this time more urgently, as I frantically looked around my room for any sign of her still being there. Not in my closet, not under my bed, not behind the weird flowery chair my grandma got me for my 4th birthday.

Still silence.

I looked up, not knowing what to expect. But as my eyes glanced across my childhood bedroom, I saw that the window we had broken in through was wide open, leading into the cold, dark and empty night.


End file.
